#people who just so happen to have an oddity to them

[firelightmlpoc]

In regards to the current Pansear Doodles problem, I have this to say, & will continue to stand by this until further proof is presented:

Firstly, a statement of mine I’ve been saying for a bit now:

“So, is this account in the screenshots that is claimed to be Pansear actually 100% confirmed to be Pansear’s? The grammar pattern isn’t matching any other messages Pansear has posted in any other server I’ve seen them in, nor was the actual ACCOUNT actually shown besides the nickname & the pfp (Which is barely able to be considered solid proof, especially with the advent of server profiles allowing specific names & pfps for other servers on a whim) You can click an account to see the full account details, mutual servers, ect cetera & show that information WITH these screenshots real easily, so idk why that wasn’t done.

Fuck, it’s still really easy to fake Discord screenshots nowadays too. Is this 100% confirmed to be Pansear in the screenshots being posted?”

As of the time of writing this post, this STILL hasn’t been addressed, nor has any further proof been given. Furthermore, with regards to how Pansear responded to just the allegations themselves, I guarantee they didn’t try to defend themselves & keep their accounts up because of actual threats to their person.

Just look at what happened to their Tumblr handle LITERALLY, AT MOST, HOURS AFTER THEY TOOK THEIR ACCOUNT DOWN.

You all think that the horribly socially-anxious, anxiety-ridden person known as Pansear Doodles could handle that kind of harassment directly to themselves, much less WANT to? No wonder they didn’t even try to defend themselves.

Now, another user I was talking to about this mentioned a good point as well (Not going to give their name to avoid them getting harassed as well.) They said this in response to the screenshots:

“There is no solid proof the Feral Porn screenshot or the Self Harm screenshot are truly Pansear or Emily, but there is some weird oddities regarding the two that show "multiple members". Occasionally, you can see a blue blip peaking behind the censor that matches the color of the 0303Emily account in the FP screenshot exactly. More critically, all of the accounts in the screenshots that aren't "Pansear" have the time sent value uncensored, and they line up with eachother pixel for pixel. This means that if you wanted to fake this screenshot, it would be really easy, as you only need 2 accounts, or just one friend. Also Pansear mentioned how they blocked 0303Emily months ago, so them talking like nothing happened makes no sense. I find it VERY hard to believe the screenshots are real considering all the oddities, the story holes, ease of fakery, and the anonymous source of the information. Every one of these points isn't enough to prove that it is fake, but it certainly isn't enough to prove it's real, and them combined all point in the same direction...”

Now, today I hear that more crusading is occurring from these same people who made these claims about Pansear.

So, @iridescentipede & @azrielfiend . You got any actual PROOF, or is this all stemming from your prior incident with Pansear not immediately trusting you when you accused their friend with minimal proof before?

[radiofreeilium]

Crowd sourcing plot points in my new wip

[secretlovezz]

Whiplash

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Summary: you've been avoiding Eddie like the plague and he's desperate to figure out what he's done to deserve it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort?? idk, kissing, fluffy ending, pining, idiots in love, use of y/n, she/her pronouns used for reader, reader is a crybaby ig idk she reacted how I would soooo, lmk if i missed anything!

Wordcount: 2010

A/N: Not really proofread and kind of written in a rush cause I wasn't feeling it about halfway through so sorry if you can tell 😞

You weren't there... again.

Your absence from your usual seat to the left of Eddie leaves him in a deep state of confusion his eyebrows furrowing in thought. This was the fifth day without your presence at his side, almost an entire week without your voice giddily telling him about the book you were reading or a new recipe you've tried, almost an entire week of being deprived of that perfect little gleam in your eyes when you looked at him rambling about something you enjoyed, and his heart ached in deprivation.

And because of this, he could with full confidence say you were avoiding him- but as to why he had no idea.

Eddie's silent at the lunch table staring at nothing in particular, and though the guys -especially the freshman- had finally learned to normalize Eddie's peculiar-ness and oddities this new silence and bleak aura had them surprised. He was stuck in his head racking through everything that's happened in the last week that could have possibly scared you away from him.

He thinks about the time he asked you for help with his math homework, but that couldn't be it considering that definitely was not the first time he'd asked and definitely was not the first time you'd happily agreed to do so. He reminisces about when he'd come to visit you during your shift at the local library in boredom playfully bothering you as you re-placed books onto the shelf.

He thinks and thinks and thinks but nothing comes to mind for your sudden evasion.

"Dude, you think any harder and steam will come out of your ears," Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie, "What the hell's wrong with you anyway?"

Eddie leans back in his chair and dramatically throws his head back to look at the ceiling, his hair flows behind him and moves as people walk by, "She's avoiding me."

Dustin's head snaps up, still chewing his food he inserts himself into the conversation, "Who? Y/N? I just talked to her last period, she seemed fine," He shrugged.

At that Eddies head pops back up, eyes locking with Dustin's in a way that leaves the younger boy cringing, and the crease between his brows intensifies, "So she's still talking to you guys but not me?" He starts to pout a little by the end of his question.

Everyone sends looks to each other before slowly nodding and Eddie's forehead loudly makes contact with the cafeteria table, the guys wince in response.

"Well... have you tried- I don't know, asking her about it?"

The glare sent in Mikes direction after his question almost makes him apologize. Eddie heatedly scratches his head and groans in irritation; he'd tried more than a handful of times to get ahold of you, tried more than enough times to just hear your voice again but nothing worked. When he waited by your locker you would walk the other way, when he called you, you hung up as soon as you heard his voice, and worst of all you would throw out the little notes he sent you in class as you walked out and away from him once again.

"Duh! Of course I have," Eddies reply is laced with annoyance and frustration, "But I can't ask her anything if she keeps running away- I mean come on! She won't even look at me, man." His voice is soft and emotional when speaking his last sentence, He runs his hand over his face weakly and suddenly he feels like he's being pitied. He doesn't want that.

He hastily moves to pick up his things, thrusting the items into his little lunch box with more force than necessary with a pout on his tired face before standing from his seat and angrily walking away across the cafeteria, from the table and the others. They all sigh when he makes it past the cafeteria doors and after a silent moment Jeff is the first who speaks up, "So- When do you guys think they'll get over themselves and finally get together?"

《----------��

When the last bell rings after what feels like years to Eddie he's swiftly making his way out of class and out of the building, but now what time would usually be spent merrily walking to his car and making plans to see you during the weekend was spent instead making his way into the woods strolling past trees and going to the little picnic table placed in that clearing he visits every once in awhile.

He stares at the ground and his feet as he treads, kicking rocks, stones, and branches on the way.

Eddies just about there just a few trees away from the clearing before he hears footsteps other than his own a little ways ahead of him he pauses head finally lifting to look in front of him and waits to see who appears.

To his surprise you pop into his vision and his round, brown eyes widen. He goes to take a step forward his body automatically and urgently trying to get to you, desperately needing to be near the drug that is you, but he stops himself to observe.

You sit at the table and pull a book out from the satchel bag at your side and a humorous huff leaves through his nose, his face relaxing and lips curling up at the sight of you doing something you often enthusiastically spoke to him about before realizing that its a book he does not recognize, that you had started a new one, and you hadn't told him like you usually would have. The thought wipes the smile from his face in an instant and his brows furrow for the nth time that day.

He steps forward and does not stop himself this time, sauntering toward you almost as angrily has he had left the cafeteria without your knowledge as you are already too engrossed in whatever new story you were traveling into. When he sits across from you at the table you feel it shift with the added weight and at last realize that you are no longer alone.

When you eventually look up, placing your thumb in-between the pages you were reading to keep your place, your heart drops at the sight of the frustrated man in front of you. You try to move away but he quickly grabs your wrist urging you to sit back down, you look at him again and the anguish written on his face makes you find your seat.

Your gaze moves to your lap and Eddie doesn't let you go too afraid you run away again.

Eddie is the one to break the stifling silence, "Talk to me... please?" The sound of his voice makes your heart ache so guiltily it hurts, "Just- Just tell what I did wrong- tell me so I can fix it."

Though your mouth opens to respond nothing comes out and your eyes gloss over with salty tears. Eddie's hold on your wrist moves to your hand gently cupping it in his calloused palm while his thumb moves to continuously swipe over your warm skin.

Your cheeks warm at the intimate contact and it only makes your eyes well with my tears reminding you of why you were ignoring him in the first place.

"When you-," You struggle to get the words out of your closing throat but Eddie still listens patiently, "Last time... you- you did something. It wasn't a big deal to you- but um... to me it- it meant a lot and that's kind of the problem."

The brunette across from you leans in closer and tilts his head in confusion, "What did I do?"

You glance to the side in embarrassment but Eddie's thumb taps you twice to bring your attention back to the conversation, "Talk to me Princess; Tell me what I did so we can go back to normal, I miss my best friend."

You didn't want to go back to normal.

For the first time in days your eyes connect with Eddie's and you take in a shaky breath at the sight of his enchanting eyes. "You uh- you kissed me..."

Now he's confused. He had kissed you? When? He's sure he would remember finally getting to kiss you.

Your free hand travels to your cheek and it all clicks for him, the pieces falling into place. He can't help but let out a chuckle of amusement; you were right- he had kissed you, kissed you on your cheek, that is, a sweet little peck against your skin. His laughter dies out when you rip your hand from his, the tears in your eyes spilling over.

Eddie stands and rounds the table to you, "Hey hey I- I'm I shouldn't have laughed. Don't cry, sweetheart." His hands place themselves on your elbows as your hands move to cover your face. He starts to feel like that little kiss really did more than he had thought.

"Did it make you uncomfortable? I won't do it again I promise," You shake your head at his words, "Talk to me, baby."

"Don't do that! Don't call me those names if you don't mean it," Eddies eyes go wide at your outburst and his mouth opens to speak but you beat him to it, "you- you kiss me and call me those names and I- It's just too much... I like you too much."

All too quickly Eddie is forcefully removing your hands from your face and cupping your cheeks thumbing the tears from your skin, "I like you too much too."

"Don't be mean Eddie."

He connects his forehand to yours, both of your eyes closing at the closeness, "M'not, would never joke about that." His soft pink lips brush gently against yours as he speaks and your breath hitches. Your lips part slightly and your cold breath fans Eddie's face. "How can I show you I mean it hm? How 'bout... a real kiss?" He mutters. You nod all too briskly for someone who was just crying and it makes Eddie smile.

In the fullness of time Eddie presses his lips to yours and when he finally gets the taste of your lips on his he realizes he's waited entirely too long to do this despite being willing to wait an eternity for you. He's been starving for the absolute goddess that is you, now getting to satisfy that hunger digging in with no resistance and sliding his tongue past your lips flushed against him. The ache he had felt without you there fading once and for all as you kissed him back. Your hands atop his squeeze as a noise escapes the back of your throat and Eddie kisses you deeper at your audible reaction. He wants to consume you, wants to keep you so close you never leave his side, he needs it- needs you and makes sure it shows in the way he kisses you.

When he pulls away your both panting for air, Eddie's grin is smug on the top of your head and your arms are wrapped around him.

"I can't believe you made me feel like shit for an entire week just cause I gave you a lil' kiss on the cheek," Eddie mocked trying to get a quick quip in.

"Shut up! It totally freaked me out."

His loud cackle echoed in your ears and you smiled, pulling him closer and pressing your nose into his skin. Eddie's arms moved to wrap around you as well and his large hands snake around you also trying to squeeze you impossibly closer. He presses a fast peck on your cheek, then your temple, and then the top of your head. Eddie takes a deep breath inhaling the scent of you- memorizing it.

"Promise you won't do that to me again. Don't leave me alone like that again."

"I won't Eds, I promise."

"Besides! What are you going to do without me here being oh so entertaining huh?"

You laugh, "I have no idea."

[ellecdc]

hi lovie !

I ADORE your writing and get so excited everytime you post 😭

I wanted to ask if you’re okay with writing a poly!marauders x reader fic where r is an overthinker and over analyzes small things. It brings r to think the boys are mad at reader so r begins to close off— happy ending w/ healthy communication, just them reassuring r

🤍you can absolutely ignore this!!

thank you baby! I'm so glad to have you here with me 😭 thanks for your request 🫶

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: insecurities, overthinking, belief of conflict, eventual healthy communication skills, men behaving rationally (that's how you know it's fiction) jkjkjkjkjk 👀

You knew you were overthinking; you could actually hear yourself spiraling as you chewed aggressively on your cuticles. You ran through every single interaction you and the boys had throughout the past few days and couldn’t help but come to the same conclusion every time.

They were mad at you.

And even saying it aloud made you feel silly because, really, what could you have possibly done that would have managed to upset all three of them without knowing about it?

There had been a few disagreements between the four of you since the beginning of the relationship; more specifically since you had joined the relationship. 

The boys, it seemed, went through most of their more volatile fights prior to you meeting them. 

But that didn’t mean there weren’t arguments. There were always differences of opinions, some hurt feelings, and learning everyone’s sensitivities and love languages etc. didn’t happen overnight; it took time.

One thing you were particularly thankful for was that you had yet to ever feel like the boys were ‘ganging up’ on you. Your argument always stayed between you and the participant of the conversation and everyone else opted to stay out of it unless they felt they could provide some helpful insight. 

But for all of them to be mad at you without some big blow up happening? You couldn't imagine what would have caused it.

It wouldn’t have been anything you said or done to Sirius, as he was a very head strong person who preferred to face things upfront and head on. If you had done something wrong to Sirius, you would have heard about it. 

James was a wild card since he usually wore his feelings on his sleeve, but he also had a tendency to paint a smile on his face and smile through the pain in order to keep the peace. 

Remus was often stoic and the voice of reason, but you also knew he could be incredibly sensitive.

Oh god... had you done something to upset Remus? You must have...it’s the only rational explanation. He’d likely be telling Sirius not to say anything to you, and since Sirius struggled in biting his tongue, it would make sense that he opt for the “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all” route.

And though James did tend to smile through the pain in order to keep the peace, he was also fiercely protective of his people – particularly when those people don’t seem inclined to stand up for themselves.

Oh god. Is this why they asked you to come over tonight? They wanted to talk to you...no, they wanted to break up with you. 

By the time James opened the door, you had forgotten you even knocked. He was all bright smiles until he took in your form – he was disappointed to see you. 

“Hello, honey. Come on in.” He said, though his words were stilted, sounding oddly scripted and rehearsed. 

“Hey sweets!” Sirius called from somewhere in their flat, “have you eaten yet?”

“Yeah.” You called back, having to clear your throat when your voice came out gravelly. You could feel James’ eyes burning a hole into the side of your face.

“Moony’s running late from work, but he’ll be home soon.” James announced as he ushered you into the living room.

You scanned your surroundings, cataloguing everything like it might be your last time in here.

You found signs of Remus’ love of trinkets and the oddities everywhere you looked, as well as signs of James and Sirius feeding into that by bringing him home things they’ve found as well. There’s a small pewter fox you bought on your trip to the coast sitting on one of the shelves of his bookcase.

Picture frames lined the walls; evidence of Sirius’ love for photography, his camera, and his favourite people.

And the god-awful pillow James found at an estate sale and insisted it have a place on the couch. It was ugly, it was lumpy, it didn’t match with anything else in the space, but it was James’ and he loved it.

Sirius came bounding into the room and rubbed at James’ shoulder affectionately, pecking a quick kiss to the crown of your head in hello before breezing by to head to the kitchen.

“He just got a home a few moments ago, he’s gonna heat up some leftovers for him and for Remus when he gets home.” James explained.

“Do you want any, doll?” Sirius called.

“No, I’m okay. Thank you!” You tried your best to sound upbeat while a horrid feeling settled in your stomach.

James seemed to feel just as awkward as you did; keeping his eyes dutifully on you whilst trying to appear that he wasn’t. His leg bounced anxiously underneath him as he leaned onto the arm of the grandfather chair he sat in – across the room from you.

It may as well have been an ocean worth of distance with the way it left you feeling.

Sirius returned to the living room a few moments later and made himself comfortable on the other end of the couch from you, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table after placing a glass of water directly on the coffee table. You wanted to chide him, knowing Remus would have him by the bollocks if he saw, but you didn’t know if it was your place anymore.

Sirius asked you how your day at work was and you offered him a vague “oh it was alright. Long. How about yours?” which started him on a long tangent about some of his more colourful customers today and how tiresome he found people in general. He and James shared some quips and anecdotes about worst moments in their various retail experiences, and you thought about how much you were going to miss this.

“Okay, what is going on?” Sirius snapped abruptly, causing your head to shoot up so quickly that you heard it crack.

“Huh?” You asked sheepishly.

Sirius’ brows furrowed as he stole a glance at James before turning back to you. “You’re being weird...what’s going on with you?”

But you didn’t get a chance to answer when the sound of the front door alerted everyone to Remus’ arrival. You hated that you visibly tensed at the sound of him moving down the hall.

“Hey bubs. Is she here?” You heard him ask James, since you and Sirius couldn’t yet see him nor he you from his position in the hall way.

You felt your face scrunch up miserably and quickly brought your hands up to shield your face, choking out a silent sob.

“Yeah.” James responded, though his voice was but a whisper as Sirius added a “whoa” at the same time. 

“What did you guys do?” Remus cooed and made his way towards you having spotted your distress.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered miserably, both for whatever you’d done to cause this conflict between the four of you and also for your embarrassing display of emotions.

“What are you sorry for, dovey?” Remus asked softly as he knelt in front of you, gently taking your wrists and coaxing them away from your face. 

“For upsetting you all.”

Remus’ brows furrowed beyond their worried state and into a more confused state as he turned to look at the other two boys in bemusement. 

“Well, I don’t think any of us are happy that you’re so upset, love, but we’re not upset. You don’t have to apologize.” He pressed.

“I don’t think that’s what this is.” James input from his place across the room.

“I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure why you’re mad at me, but I’d like to talk about it with you and I promise not to do it again.” You cried, sounding disturbingly and embarrassingly close to begging.

“Mad at you? Is that why you’ve been such a weirdo tonight? You thought we were mad at you?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“Don’t call her a weirdo, Pads!” James chided, standing from his chair. 

“Why’d you think everyone was mad at you, dove?” Remus asked, ignoring the squawking of his boyfriends behind him as he forced you to hold eye contact with him.

“I... I don’t know, I guess things just felt kind of off this week and then...I don’t know.” You admitted dumbly. “And then I got here and, it just felt weird.”

“I’m sorry, angel.” James apologized, suddenly beside you having taken to sitting directly on top of (a very petulant) Sirius. “You seemed distressed and... I got nervous. Usually, Rem is the better one at handling these things, I wanted to wait until he got here to broach the subject. Sirius, though, has the tact of a bull.”

“So, you were just going to let all of us sit here awkwardly until Remus got here to save the day, huh? Not on my fucking watch.” Sirius groaned as he positioned himself to kick James not only off of him, but off the couch completely. This caused Sirius’ glass of water to topple off the coffee table and onto the rug below it.

“Nice going, Prongs,” Sirius spat victoriously from his place on the couch, “look at the mess you’ve made.”

“It wasn’t even my cup!” James defended.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that wasn’t on a fuckin' coaster, Sirius.” Remus reproached darkly, tossing the dark-haired boy a glare over his shoulder.

Sirius just smirked and then winked at you. “There you go, dollface, now everyone’s mad at me instead.”

“Awe, Pads!” James cooed from the ground before launching himself back onto Sirius. “Look at you, taking the heat off our pretty girl.”

Remus shook his head in exhaustion, but you could see a fond smile ghosting his lips from his place before you.

“Trust me, dove. You’re the least of our problems.”

You chuckled wetly and wiped the tears (and more embarrassingly, the snot) from your face. “I’m sorry. I feel rather silly now.”

Sirius, having given up on his instance to be the little spoon between he and James, looked around James’ broad frame in his lap to face you. “How about this; if we’re ever upset with you, we promise to tell you. If we haven’t said anything; it’s safe to assume we’re not mad. Okay?”

You nodded in agreement.

“And...” James continued. “Next time you find yourself feeling like this, maybe you can tell us, too?”

You nodded emphatically. “Yes, I promise. I’m sorry.”

Remus kissed the backs of both of your hands and stood from his knelt position in front of you.

“No more sorry’s, dove. We’re all good.”

James stood from Sirius’ lap to place a warm kiss to the space between your cheek and ear and whispered another apology for your being upset.

“Hey, Moons?” Sirius called.

“Yeah?”

“Are you heading to the kitchen?” He called with the sort of smirk that caused you and James to exchange a suspicious look.

“Yeah.”

“Can you grab me a glass of water, please?”

“Fuckin’ hell Sirius get off your arse. And use a sodding coaster.” Remus bellowed from the bedroom.

“See? You’re the least of our problems.” James repeated, stamping another kiss to your cheek. 

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie is weird.

It's something that Steve knew long before he actually knew Eddie, the older boy's oddities and eccentricities on display for anyone to see. Past Steve used to roll his eyes whenever Eddie would push against the flow of normal, but present Steve enjoys it, Eddie's brand of different. 

That's really the reason why he pretends not to notice when Eddie takes things.

Nothing crazy, nothing valuable, and that's honestly the real reason he hasn't said anything about it. He watches Eddie pocket bottle caps from the kids' sodas and paper clips from the Family Video counter, even the little tables from the pizza boxes when they have a movie night.

Steve doesn't understand why Eddie collects these little odds and ends, just sees it as another one of his quirks. Until he finally sees where everything is going.

They're walking to the corner store that's fairly close to the trailer park, the sun on its way to setting but not quite there yet. The conversation that flows between them is easy, easier than Steve ever thought it could be, and it makes something in him want to curl up and purr like a contented cat. 

He's telling Eddie about something that happened at the grocery store today, when the older boy makes a soft noise of delight before crouching and grabbing something from the pavement. Steve barely gets a look at the penny, but he can tell from just a glimpse that it's seen better days and has more than likely been run over by a few cars, if the scratches on it are anything to go by. 

Eddie makes another happy noise as he stands once more and tucks the coin into his jacket pocket, and Steve picks his story back up like nothing happened. It doesn't get mentioned at all, but Steve can see the extra pep in Eddie's step, like he's so excited over something so simple, yet trying to contain it.

His silent joy is contagious, and by the time they get back to the trailer, they're practically plastered together at their sides and giggling like children. Steve nearly forgets about the penny, until Eddie drops his bag of snacks onto the little kitchen table and beelines to his room. So, so curious, Steve leaves his own bag next to Eddie's before following.

The older boy is crouched on the floor by the bed, and Steve watches as he pulls out what appears to be a shoebox, possibly for a pair of work boots, and sets it on the bed. Steve gets a brief look at the lid and the chicken-scratch Crow Box written on the top before Eddie opens it, and a few things quickly make sense.

The box is full of little things, even more than what Steve has seen Eddie take and pocket, a clear sign that that has been ongoing for years. Little plastic dinosaurs and incredibly smooth or shiny rocks, a chain of colored paper clips and a plastic cup full of acorn hats. There's even an old pencil box that appears to house a small hoard of bottle caps, all different colors, tucked in neatly next to a handful of the pizza tables. 

The whole collection is actually well organized, and Steve watches as Eddie takes the new penny from his pocket and drops it into a tin can full of other scratched and beaten coins.

"That's quite a collection," Steve says without even thinking, and Eddie looks up with wide eyes, like he wasn't expecting Steve to follow. Steve just crouches down next to him, resisting the urge to reach out and pick up one of the acorn hats, or one of the dinosaurs. "Any reason behind it?"

Eddie just shrugs and looks down at the box. He takes one of the shiny rocks and offers it to Steve, who gladly takes it and rolls it in his fingers. "They're weird, or actually, they're things that are so normal, they're invisible. Things people usually don't think about, or throw out, or walk right by. They're… different. But I like them."

God, Steve has never related to a feeling more. Seeing something that other people just brush off or ignore and wanting to be the one to cherish it. 

"I can get that," he says as he drops the rock back into the cup with its siblings. "I mean, you're different, and I like you, so." His heart in his throat, Steve leans in and presses a kiss to Eddie's cheek before standing, and he again finds himself caught in Eddie's wide-eyed surprise.

"Steve-"

"C'mon, crow boy. We've got a movie to watch."

[highdefhoetry]

little prey.

summary: sylus finds out about your kink.

cw: nsfw!! lee!reader, female reader, tickle kink, chase/capture, pinning, pussy spanking, vaginal fingering, post orgasm tickling

a/n: i have nothing to say for myself. this fic is for me and like 3 other people who are actually into this lmaodlkfsdl. got inspired from sylus' level 25 affinity memory, and the fact that he can literally see a person's greatest desires by looking into their eyes. which means.... you know. pls enjoy dskjfhs

It was your own fault you ended up in this familiar predicament. Wrists pinned above your head, hips stuck in place, red eyes leering down at you with hands ready to attack. You had found yourself in a similar situation during the struggle to steal his crow brooch, but this was different. This time, he knew what you were playing at.

Messing with Sylus was like waving a red flag in front of a charging bull, and you had made an unhealthy habit out of doing it. For all the times he tormented you with sickly sweet pet names and unfair mind games with promising “deals” too good to be true, you made sure to pay him back in full, in your own little way. However, there wasn’t much you could really do with the massive strength difference between the two of you. Nothing besides being really, really annoying. And that was something you were very good at doing.

The current situation started off as a small touch. A brush of the hand against his stomach when you walked by him in the study, just to test the waters. He barely flinched when your fingers traced a gentle path across his abs, but he definitely took notice.

“What are you up to now?” he asked in an indignant tone. 

“Nothing.”

You put forth your best nonchalant persona, mimicking his attitude as best as you could.

“Seeking out the weak spots of your enemy?” he smirked. “Smart girl. You’re finally starting to use your brain for once.”

“Excuse you. Rude.”

At first aloof, he suddenly turned his attention to you and followed behind closely as you began to head into the hallway.

“Smart prey usually attack predators in areas they are weak to themselves.”

A jolt of fear struck through your heart, but you maintained your cool demeanor as best as you could.

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” he suddenly appeared in front of you, reaching out his hand to hover it over your belly. “Is this one of your weak spots?”

“No…!!” you wrap your arms around your stomach protectively.

“Oh, really? Then let’s prove it through actions rather than words.”

Shit.

You turned tail and started to scurry away, but he quickly caught you before you could gain any distance. With one long, strong arm looped around your waist, he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, where he tossed you onto his bed like a sack of potatoes. You landed with a soft thump, too dazed by how fast it happened to try and get up. He crawled over you as if preparing to devour you whole, and now here you were. Immobile and helpless, at the mercy of the leader of Onychinus. 

“You’re pretty good at running away,” he croons, grinning down at you victoriously. “But I'm even better. Especially when it comes to catching little prey that thinks it can escape from me."

“Wait, Sylus-!”

“Now, let’s take a look…” he grabs your chin with his free hand and forces you to address him, leaning down so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. His crimson eyes intensify, emitting a strange otherworldly glow that compels your hidden fantasies to come forth, yanking them from the recesses of your mind. 

Images of Sylus’s hands fill your vision. Strong, elegant fingers tracing every nerve ending in your skin. Caressing your neck, ears, and collarbone before trailing down your chest. Fluttering over your taut ribcage and helpless sides before moving down to your hips, and then…

“Stop!” you cry out, trying to force the damning picture from your mind. Damn it! He was the last person you wanted to know about this little “oddity” of yours… now you would never hear the end of it.

“How interesting…” his grin widens as he runs a finger across your cheek. “So that’s what your plan was all along. I suppose I’d be a real bad guy if I didn’t go along with it, hmm?”

“Wait, hold on…!”

Your sentence is lost when you suddenly burst out laughing. A giant hand clamps onto your ribcage, pinching the soft spots in between each one with a surprising amount of gentleness. You lurch your body to the opposite side, trying to worm away, but he follows your movements effortlessly. He spiders his fingers down your side, hovering at your waist to feather it lightly. It’s like he instinctively knows where to touch and what technique to use to make it as torturous as possible. You would be screaming at him to stop if you weren’t so busy laughing.

He explores you further, dancing his fingertips over your stomach expertly, right where you had touched him earlier. The sensation is so electric that you actually squeal; he chuckles darkly while watching you buck your hips, trying in vain to get away.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he taunts you with faux sympathy. “Can’t handle a few light touches?”

“Fuck off!” you manage to splutter out in between giggles. He responds to your impolite words by rapidly tickling your underarms. Your laughs are starting to sound more like shrieks now. 

He holds you down like this, tormenting you without mercy, for quite some time. His attacks are calculated and brutal; he’ll tickle you softly in one spot for a minute or so before suddenly jumping to another, tickling harder just to throw you off. He pays special attention to your stomach, where light spidering seems to have the biggest effect, and your underarms, which garner more cackles from you when he digs in a bit. Once in a while, he strokes the length of your sides, relishing in your muted giggles and light squirming as you try and fail to shake him off. 

But the worst is when he touches your neck. Just a few light caresses there, and you’re begging hard. You try to block out his wiggling fingers by scrunching your shoulders and turning your head, doing anything at this point to escape from the intense sensation, but that only spurs him on. When you squirm to one side, he simply jumps to the other. Back and forth, until you feel like your mind is starting to unravel.

He pauses for a moment, for reasons unknown, and you take the opportunity to swallow as much air as you can before he decides to start up again. When you open your eyes that you’d squeezed shut, you see him gazing down at you strangely. Like he’s looking for something. It dawns on you that he’s mapping out his next strike, but by the time you open your mouth to protest, it’s too late.

His fingers take hold of your ear and rub it softly, tracing the shell and lobe with an uncharacteristic gentleness that makes you feel like you’re slowly losing it. It’s such a sensitive spot, and one that’s rarely touched. He elicits giggles and squeals by tickling both of them, one after the other. It’s mortifying. You let out tittered pleas in a weak effort to appeal to his sense of mercy. They go ignored.

He’s about to let out, you can feel his hand pinning your wrists loosen slightly. But something stops him before he does. His eyes drift down to your shorts, honing in on the small wet spot that’s appeared in between your thighs.

Shit.

“What have we here…?” he spanks your pussy, running his fingers over your swollen clit to feel the wetness for himself. You yelp at the unexpected impact, then moan when his hand rubs the length of your mound. He spanks it again, grinning as he watches you writhe beneath him. Then, without a word, he slips his fingers under your waistband and gives you what you want.

You moan as his expert hands get to work. His thumb presses against the hood of your clit, his thin fingers slip into your hole. His index and middle finger enter first, curling against your walls as they pump in and out in a steady rhythm. His thumb massages your clit, letting the sounds of your fluttery cries guide him towards your pleasure. He studies you carefully, observing your facial expressions and vocalizations with utmost focus. Each time you’re brave enough to meet his gaze, you find him staring right at you, crimson eyes boring into your soul. 

He takes his time building you up, and when you’re on the edge, he pushes you over. The orgasm wracks your body, sends shockwaves of pleasure through every nerve while your back arches and your hips thrust forward. Your vision grows fuzzy, then returns as the ecstatic feeling settles down. He pulls out his fingers, licking your juices from the tips with a demented smirk. 

But just when you think it’s over, he strikes again. He still hasn’t let go of your arms, so you’re helpless when he starts tickling you again. This time, he hones in on your sensitive hips and thighs, stroking the crease of your hip and skittering his nails on the tops of your legs. The orgasm has made you a million times more ticklish, and what he’s doing now is pure torture. You scream and kick your legs and beg him to stop, saying you’ll do anything, saying you’ll stop being a nuisance, only for him to ignore you once more. 

Fortunately, this round doesn’t last as long. He stops for good when your breathing is ragged and your voice is hoarse. He finally lets go of your arms, chuckling when you yank your arms down at your sides to protect them as you couldn’t before. You want to curse him out and hurl a plethora of profanities at him, but you’re too damn tired to even get a word out. 

“That was fun,” he teases while watching you try to compose yourself. “But just so you know, it’s pretty dangerous to reveal what you like so easily.”

“I didn’t… I don’t… ugh, screw you!”

He scoffs, then climbs off the bed and frees you for good. With his back now turned, he heads out of the room and leaves you with one last snarky comment.

“Next time you want to get the jump on your enemy,” he says, voice dripping with arrogance. “Come up with a better plan.”

[probablyasocialecologist]

The methodology for the Cass review was established by a team from the University of York including Tilly Langdon, who has previously been involved in promoting Gender Exploratory Therapy – an approach which, despite its neutral-sounding name, discourages children from identifying as trans and has been likened to conversion therapy. Her approach included setting a very high bar for evidence to be considered in the review, ruling out 100 of the existing 103 studies into the use of puberty blockers and hormones to treat trans children. The reason given for excluding all these studies was that they did not incorporate a double blind approach – in other words, they did not involve giving puberty blockers to some patients and placebos to others. This might sound like a reasonable objection on the face of it – until one considers that puberty is a dramatic physical and psychological process, and people can easily tell when it’s happening to them, so a double blind simply wouldn’t work in practice. The Cass review called for more research and, again, few would disagree with this. The suggestion that treatment should be withheld in the process, however, is not neutral. It presupposes that the harm done by puberty blockers (demineralisation of bones, which is usually temporary in the short-term treatment recommended and is similar to what occurs in pregnancy) is more severe than the harm done to a trans child by going through the wrong sort of puberty. The latter is linked to high rates of self-harm and suicidal ideation, together with the need, in many cases, for extensive surgical procedures. Confusingly, the review states that children taking puberty blockers showed “no changes in gender dysphoria or body satisfaction”, which suggests that the author didn’t actually understand what puberty blockers do at all. They don’t make children feel better – they just delay a process that makes them feel worse. This is one of several oddities in a report that lacks internal consistency. It states that there is no established definition of social transition, for instance, and does not offer one, but goes on to talk about it as if there were. It also talks about autistic ‘girls’ identifying as trans in increasing numbers, treating this as mysterious and as cause for concern, despite acknowledging elsewhere that more and more girls are being diagnosed as autistic, so one would expect more diagnoses to be present within any subsection of the young female-assigned population.  Perhaps the most worrying of the review’s conclusions – which should concern people far beyond the trans community – is the suggestion that as far as NHS treatment is concerned, trans people should be treated as children until they are 25. The rational for this is that 25 is the age when (on average) the brain stops developing. As any neurologist will tell you, the brain is in fact never static, and within ten years or so of that age, it begins to shrink. Deciding who has the capacity to make decisions based on brain age could have unintended consequences for the likes of Cass (64).  That aside, what would setting the age of true adulthood at 25 mean for everybody else? If we couldn’t allow people to consent to medical treatment at 24, should we ask them to risk dying for us? If not, then at a stroke we could lose a quarter of our armed forces. Likewise, we would have to give serious thought to what to do about a third of parents who might not be considered competent to look after their newborn children.  And then there are issues like contraception. Right-wingers have long contended, on one pretext or another, that teenage girls shouldn’t have the right to take the pill without their parents’ consent. This is where the review’s suggestion starts to look less like a double standard and more like the thin end of a very nasty wedge.

[selarina]

This is Part 2 because you guys asked

This florist guy is a peculiar lanky character, who later revealed himself as Gojo Satoru, who is apparently the son of a rich guy, the grandson a rich guy. He descended from a whole lineage of rich men and women, and so, it seemed particularly odd that this scion of affluence was was cooped up in a barely running florist shop.

So, you didn’t end up texting the guy after he cheekily slipped his number on the card but you did get rather… intrigued?

There’s something so strange and unreal about him. Apart from the oddity, the lankiness, the outright boldness that could only be a result of a privileged upbringing, he’s also interested in you — and boldly so. It’s never truly happened to you before, even your current boyfriend took about 6 whole months of weighing out the pros and cons before asking you out. It feels nice, you do suppose.

You’re lounging on your bed, the red roses from the shop lying beside you on your bed table almost dead from the rejection of the apology you gave. And honestly, you thought not to put waste to such pretty flower. You intended to put it into a vase or an empty bottle but you never ended up doing it. It’s funny how you’ve managed to neglect them over the past few days. It seems like a cruelly fitting metaphor of your relationship.

you: remember that florist guy

yue: sighh

yue: yeah you haven’t shut up about him all week if you haven’t noticed

you: shut up i only mentioned him like twice

you: anyway

you: i’m pretty sure he told me he wished my boyfriend died

yue: WHAT

yue: he’s just like me fr <3

You sighed. He is just like her. She’s never liked your boyfriend and saw right through him to be the facade of a temporary high school relationship based on nothing but superficial optics that would hurt at least one of you on the way.

But now, at the very least, she felt safe knowing it won’t be you, regardless of how cruel and selfish that may be. She always prioritised only the people around her. It’s something you admire about her, you wish you could care about the people around you as much as she did.

You mulled over the prospect of texting the florist, Gojo Satoru. For starters, he’s clearly interested in you, and you’re clearly in an odd limbo of a relationship and the ethics of that are well… pretty grey. And also, he came off strong, bold and you’re just meh. The first taste of your bitter sweetness and he’ll run.

A week passes, the withering roses sit comfortably at the bottom of your trash bin, amid ruffled paper, tissues and other junk alike. You stil find yourself thinking about Gojo Satoru, pondering whether you should send him a message.

If he's going to run away, you reasoned, you don't see the harm. Well, you do see the harm for your current relationship but again, he's going to run. So, it doesn't truly matter. So, you text him.

---

A week elapsed, and you received no text back, it started to eat you alive just a bit. The single checkmark next to your message mocked you every time you opened the chat. Did he give you a dead phone number? Was he just being nice?

It's all too odd, and the memory of you meeting the guy starts to feel like something you made up. You try not to dwell on it much, focusing on school, chores, sports, friends. Yet, after exhausting these distractions, you found yourself lying in bed, bones growing drowsy, thinking and dreaming about the man.

So, several days later, you do something slightly insane. Some might argue it was the most sane course of action, namely... Yue. But who cares? You're the only one here to judge.

You really, truly do not have interest in him but you do find yourself slowly taking the long route back home, walking past the flower shop every chance you get this week. But you always made sure to maintain a distance, choosing to walk on the other side of road, because like you said before — you aren't interested, just curious really.

And it would truly insane if this meant anything because he's just some guy you met while buying roses for your boyfriend.

You start to notice the little things about the shop itself — how it seems perpetually quiet, how the flowers displayed outside changing is the only sign of it being active, and then you eventually manage to catch a glimpse of Satoru inside, tending to the blooms like he's a practiced still from a movie.

You started to wonder if he was purposefully ignoring you. His quaint and unpopular shop always seemed devoid of customers. What did he do with all his time? From all the times you have crossed past the shop, not a single one of these instances has had any customers in them.

And one day, you decide to finally go back into the shop. No excuses prepared, you decide to make it all up as you go.

"Thought you'd never come in," he greeted you with a grin, leaning casually against the counter as if posing for a photograph.

You turned to scan every corner of the shop, checking to see if anyone else was present, reluctant to divulge your teenage romantic conundrum to an audience.

But to your relief, the shop was empty, save for the two of you.

You turned back to Satoru, noticing how his signature black sunglasses lay perched on the bridge of his nose. That's another one of those unusual things you've noticed about him, how he's always wearing his glasses.

One day you got late at school, having stayed back to hang some posters, so when you walked back you noticed the man still donning his glasses, even though the night had already set itself in the sky. You didn't understand why he would wear them. Perhaps, he has an eye condition.

"So, you didn't reply to my text," you say, striving for a casual tone as you pocketed your hands and approached the counter. You try to ignore the implications of him knowing you were walking past here all week.

He doesn't say anything, tilting his head, before he startles you by taking off into the backroom.

You wait there, confused, staring at the silent flowers beside you, as you wait and you wait.

He reemerged with a bag, rummaging through it for something? His phone, maybe?

Yes, his phone. "Right! Sorry! Sorry, I had my phone off," he explained, his eyes focused on his loading phone.

"You have one... right here," you remarked, removing your hand from your pocket and pointing at another phone resting on the counter.

He chuckles, "Huh, yeah. I do have another phone, but that's more for business stuff. My personal phone is the one you texted," he clarified, nodding toward the device in his hands.

"I see," you replied plainly, slipping your hand back into your pocket.

"I'm sorry for not responding. How about I make it up to you over some Mochi?" he grins. "Today? Right now?"

"Whoa, hold on. I didn't agree to go on a date with you. Remember, I have a boyfriend," you reminded him.

"Right," he grits with restrained chuckle. "Well, I didn't ask you out on a date. Just Mochi."

You can't help but raise an eyebrow at his response, amused by his persistence.

"Just Mochi, huh? Are you always this forward with all your customers?" you tease, finding yourself intrigued by him and all his boldness and audacity.

"Well, you're not really a customer today. Unless, you want to buy me flowers before our date?" he grins, abandoning his apron, as he comes from behind the counter.

"Hey! I said this wasn't a date," you find yourself yelling back at him, leaving only a slew of chortles as a response from him.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

So, fun detail I just noticed about Megamind:

Famously, throughout the film Megamind mispronounces certain words, most notably: "hello" ("olo"), "Metro City" ("Metrocity") and "school" ("shool").

Like many fans, I'd attributed this and other oddities— like not knowing what a window is— to his unconventional upbringing and general social isolation. His speech sounds a lot like the way people pronounce words that they've only seen written down, so maybe he just hasn't had enough practice talking to other people out loud.

Lovely theory, very angsty, makes sense that this would be what the film-makers intended.

Except…

You know who doesn't seem to have this problem with pronunciation? And who in fact attempts to correct Megamind's pronunciation of various words more than any other character?

Fucking Minion.

Minion was there for literally every step of Megamind's childhood. They were raised on Earth together and went through seemingly the exact same experiences. Yet somehow Minion came out the other end knowing how to answer the phone and what a window is and why people use codes, while Megamind didn't.

And I am just so fascinated as to why.

Top three theories:

1. Megamind isn't actually mispronouncing words due to lack of practice, but rather for some other reason.

Maybe there's something up with his ability to hear certain sounds, or his alien anatomy makes it harder to pronounce them. Maybe he's neurodivergent (I mean, he definitely is, but maybe that fact is affecting his speech).

2. Megamind is mispronouncing things due to lack of practice, but there's something about Minion that makes him need less practice to pick up new languages.

Possibly as part of their protective role, his species has advanced language acquisition programmed in so they can act as translators. Else, while Minion and Megamind landed on Earth together, it's not 100% clear whether they were actually at the same age/developmental stage when that happened. If Minion was an adult (or older child) when he became fluent in English, he might have consciously focused more on accurate pronunciation than Megamind did.

3. Megamind is mispronouncing things due to lack of practice, but Minion is getting more practice than him.

This is… honestly the theory with the most evidence behind it. Like, we know that Minion isn't in jail at the start of the film, so he's clearly mot spending the same amount of time in solitary confinement that Megamind is.

He also appears to be in charge of providing Megamind with the resources needed to carry out his plans, which would presumably require him to communicate with scrap merchants, crocodile breeders and Romanian outlet store owners (among others) on the regular.

And like… if he's not getting thrown in jail whenever Megamind does, and Megamind is spending a fair amount of time on the inside, then Minion has to be doing something to pass the time. He's clearly a bit of an extrovert, and seems to take more pleasure in interacting with people than Megamind does.

It seems unlikely that he'd spend all his time sitting in the Evil Lair waiting for Megamind contact him or escape. So what does he do?

I find it both sweet and hilarious to imagine that Minion actually does have his own social circle outside of Megamind.

Minion goes to DnD on the second Tuesday of every month.

Minion gets advice on making costumes for Megamind from his weekly sewing circle.

Minion has been going to university online for the past eight years and is currently working towards his PhD in Marine Biology.

Minion is a semi-regular at Metrocity Night Clubs.

Minion does volunteer work sometimes with kids at the Metrocity hospital.

Megamind has barely any idea about any of this. Like, he knows Minion goes places at various times.

He knows that when he's rampaging through the streets Minion will sometimes stop to wave hello to various people that Megamind has never met. He's seen the half-orc paladin costume that Minion made for DnD.

But he's never really asked about it, and Minion has never seen the need to tell him. So long as Minion's happy, Megamind's happy, and so long as Megamind's happy, Minion is happy.

Meanwhile Roxanna, post-movie, has to grapple with the fact that sometimes she'll go to visit her boyfriend only for him to ask if they can go out for dinner instead because Minion's book club is meeting in the Evil Lair, and he's been gently encouraged not to come back after what he said to Helen about her (wrong) opinions on To Kill A Mockingbird.

[tempestuous-tempest]

You Carve Them Wooden Animals:

[Red Dead Redemption Version]

☆Going based on animals I associate them with.☆

Dutch: Rattlesnake

"Aw, look at that. Well, ain't you a real doll." He likes it. The little, well detailed miniature gets happily placed onto his shelf. There are even some times where he holds it in his hands while thinking.

Hosea: Fox

"You made that pretty little thing for an old man like me?" Goes into the box of oddities. Said box is filled with random things that other people have handed him over the years. Snake rattler from Marston, a few turkey feathers from Arthur, and other odd things. He adores the little fox.

Arthur: Stag

"You made this?" He is confused on why you would make him the cute little deer. Leaves it on his little table when at camp, but when travelling far, he puts it in his satchel.

John: Wolf

"A toy???" He doesnt know how to feel about it and gives it to Jack to play with. Dont worry, Abigail makes sure nothing bad happens to it. :D

Javier: Jaguarundi

"This for me, mi pequeña artista?" He grins. He's curious to why you chose a jaguarundi, but he loves it. Always showing it off to others. Just look at what his little songbird made him.

Lenny: Bobcat

"A bobcat?" All smiles. Carries it around on his person at all times. If he lost it he would cry. It's just too cute, and it has no business looking so fluffy despite being made of wood.

Sean: Irish Hare

"Cute, but why am I a rabbit?" Thinks there's some big meaning behind his animal. He's right, but he gets the reason wrong. Will not shut up about it. Most of what he talks about. Will absolutely look at the ones you made for the others and get all jealous and start making up derogatory meanings for why they got that animal. They ignore him. Well, 'cept John who got into a fight with him about it.

Charles: Bison

Accepted. No questions asked. He will treasure it quietly. Holds it in his hands for about an hour after recieving it, just to go over every little detail and marvle at the craftsmanship. If anything happened to it, even something small like a hardly noticeable crack that looks like part of the design, he will know. Even notes the wood it's made of.

Kieran: Stallion

"Aw, gosh. You didnt have to." He's all giddy about it. Takes real good care of it. The only thing that he will not allow people to pick on him about. He loves it.

Swanson: Jacob's Sheep

"Wha's dis?" He blinked slowly at the small carving you handed him. He was a tad wasted when you gave it to him. When you explained that you made it for him, he grinned and raised it into the air, stumbling about and showing it off. "I gots a sheep!"

Strauss: Shark

"You're giving this to me?" He was surprised that you gave him anything at all, but also found it humorous that you chose a shark of all animals. The reason for the association not lost on him. It now sits on his table with his books and ledgers. This was why you were his favorite.

[blackbackedjackal]

What are some actual problems in the animal product industry?

I'm mostly familiar with fur farming so that's what I'll comment on.

A big concern of mine is that because ARA campaigns against people using or farming fur there's been a decline in the public's trust of fur products in countries that traditionally had good animal welfare standards. This has caused an uptick in fur being farmed in places where the animal welfare laws aren't as regulated, so you're seeing many more unethical farms being able to sell furs cheaply to markets that buy fur for textile. The quality of the fur doesn't matter as much as in the clothing market, so the animals are raised to be as big as possible, exceeding thier healthy sizes and weights to produce as much fur on one animal as possible.

Simultaneously, these unethical farms and businesses are aware of the bad press that ARA groups have spread about the industry, and will sell off other byproducts that aren't as heavily scrutinized or regulated as fur. Many mislabeled blue fox skulls are being sold worldwide (often illegally) by oddities dealers that come from these farms as well as oils and fertilizers and other byproducts of fur farming. It's easy to tell if an animal was unhealthy due to the condition of the pelt, but when the fur is processes as wool or part of the animal people may not recognize came from a fur farm is distributed, it still funds these poorly regulated places.

Meanwhile, the farmers and workers who are being harassed are ones who are generally compliant with WelFur standards, meaning that their farms are up to the current welfare codes in place. It's causing many good farms to go out of business or in some cases close down due to entire states or countries banning fur farming or the use of fur products.

So now good farms are being held accountable for bad practices done at other farms, and it's becoming more and more difficult to find places that do hold up to ethical animal husbandry standards. It's also promoting the use of plastics to make faux fur products which are far worse for the environment then just using fur. And due to the scrutiny many farmers face, it's becoming less worth it for them to sell thier animals as pelts and instead sell them to the exotic pet trade (i.e. people like saveafox who buys foxes directly from an unethical fur farm with bad breeding practices).

It's bad because it feels like there's very little room for changes and improvements to the fur industry because of the chokehold ARA groups have on the public's understanding of fur farming. For example, I'd like to see more ethical breeding practices done based on studying certain color generics and how they effect the health of certain species (we know some color mutations also cause genetic issues with certain species and I would like to have more information as to why that happens and how it can be avoided). However, it's difficult to discuss topics like that and push for change within the industry because most fur farms have to be extremely cautious with who they discuss thier practices to. ARAs will often lie to them to infiltrate thier farms to "expose" them by fabricating lies or stealing and releasing thier animals.

[olsenmyolsen]

You're Not Alone

master list

dark master list

Post Age of Ultron (WandaNat)

Summary: Wanda discovers a secret about The Black Widow after a mission.

Word Count: 4.5K

Content: Talks of Hydra, The Red Room, Feelings, Tramua and flashbacks.

Wanda was still learning a lot since moving to America and becoming an Avenger.

Much to the dismay of Clint Barton, she discovered how much more trashy American reality TV is compared to other countries. Choosing to watch two toxic people argue while shitfacrd was a late-night pleasure for Wanda.

She also found her niche of new sitcoms to enjoy. Ones like The Office and Parks and Rec. She tried Always Sunny, but Wanda COULD NOT get into it. That disappointed Maria Hill, who liked that one. But not as much as How I Met Your Mother.

Regardless, Malcom in the Middle was a new favorite for Wanda Maximoff.

She also found new oddities about her teammates. Like Sams love of naming his little gadgets. Steve's late-night ballroom dancing practices. Vision curiosity over his humanoid teeth and Thor's love of all things Pop-Tarts and sugary sweets before heading off-world.

Lastly, Wanda most recently discovered something about Natasha Romanoff that almost no one knew.

Natasha Romanoff had a tattoo.

Wanda couldn't believe it when she saw it. But then again, Wanda was never supposed to see it. She only happened to see it because a mission went wonky...

Since joining the team, Wanda had one goal in mind aside from the obvious for the greater good hero crap. Wanda wanted to eliminate Hydra and their bases.

Joining Hydra was a mistake. It gave her, her powers but at the cost of her young adult years. At the expense of her sanity. She lost herself and then her brother.

Now, she was slowly discovering who Wanda was. Who Wanda Maximoff wanted to be. One of the first things on that list was to take down Hydra.

So that's what led Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha in route to the snowy mountains of France. It wasn't the first mission Wanda was cleared to go on. But it was the first time she was on with Natasha Romanoff.

The Black Widow.

To say Natasha intimidated the Sokovain would be an understatement. Wanda was frightened of Natasha. Even if Wanda could clearly use her powers to her advantage, she didn't want to do that anymore.

At least not to her teammates and friends.

Besides, the pair had barely spoken since the fall of Wanda's home country, but yet Natasha's red jacket still hung in Wanda's closet.

They shared the same floor and went to movie nights at the same time, but aside from a look over and a tight-lipped smile. Natasha never gave Wanda anything more.

Not even when Wanda gave everyone on the team a handwritten apology for her actions in the rise and fall of Ultron.

She never received anything back from Natasha.

And yet.

Natasha chose to sit next to Wanda on the flight to France.

Wanda smiled as the redhead looked over the younger woman. Wanda did the same as her eyes traveled over Natasha's face. She couldn't deny how beautiful the Widow was. Her green eyes and striking features were hard to look away from. But that's what benefitted Natasha when she was in the Red Room. Use any and everything to your advantage.

Natasha wasn't doing that now.

She was just being herself. She wanted to talk to Wanda.

So when she saw Wanda's eyes leave her lips and get visibly nervous, Natasha decided to speak up.

"Hi." She started. Simple enough.

"Hi." Wanda softly spoke back.

Natasha took a second before speaking.

"I want you to know that I know this isn't your first mission. But it's your first one with me since..." Wanda nodded as Natasha steadied herself. "I just want you to know that you can count on me to have your back." Wanda smiled at that. "I know you'll have mine." Natasha ended that with a reassuring nod and a look away before looking back when the witch spoke up.

"Thank you, Natasha."

"Of course."

With that, Natasha cleared her throat and started looking at her widow bites. Double-checking them. Even though they had been thoroughly looked over by the Widow herself before the team even left the compound.

Wanda didn't know what to say anyways. Everything that had just happened was shocking to her.

The most shocking part might have been when Natasha didn't leave when she got done with her gadgets; instead, she remained sat in her seat next to Wanda.

Wanda racked her brain, thinking of anything else to say, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth.

But finally, when she was about push the words "have you ever seen the Dick Van Dyke show?" through her lips, Steve called the team up to go over the mission one last time.

The mission? Infiltrate the located Hydra Base. Save prisoners, if any. Capture the goons inside and try not to kill anyone. However, if it comes to it, do what you have to.

Steve made a better speech, but you get the jist.

When the wheels touched down, the group decided to split off. Through the coms, Wanda could hear Steve and Sam finding guys left and right. But that wasn't the case for her and Natasha.

Their side of the base was empty. Cells and rooms had been cleared out, long left abandoned. Dust and dirt had gathered. Flashbacks came to the front of Wanda's mind, but she pushed down the screaming and the trauma that came with it just in time for Natasha's thoughts to be loud.

Begging for Wanda to read them.

The Black Widow tried to focus on the mission, but for the last couple of months, Natasha had been silently struggling.

After mouthing off to Capitol Hill, Natasha came to Avengers Tower under Fury's orders. She stayed and made herself useful to the cause at hand, however, before and in between Ultron happening. Natasha had thought she found solace in someone after her and Maria split. But even after Natasha begged for them to go with her. It wouldn't work.

Nothing Natasha did worked.

So when a little witch made Natasha relive her nightmares, it didn't anger Natasha. It made her feel weak and small, like she deserved it.

So all this time when, Wanda felt like Natasha wasn't making an effort or ignoring her. Wanda technically wasn't wrong. It, however, wasn't because Natasha hated Wanda she was just dealing with her own shit.

"Natasha?" Wanda whispered when she noticed that the Widow wasn't walking next to her anymore. Instead, she was severely feet back looking into a cell.

Wanda walked back and saw what Natasha was staring at. A stuffed pink bear laid face down in the middle room. Covered in dirt and dried blood.

Wanda didn't say anything. She and Natasha had lived something similar. She just forced her eyes to pull away from the bear and look at Natasha, rubbing the left side of her ribs with her right hand, mumbling something to herself before remembering where she was, and what she was supposed to be doing. She cleared her throat and looked at Wanda.

"We should get moving."

Again, Natasha's thoughts were begging to be viewed, but Wanda ignored them and followed Natasha.

"Did you find it yet?" Sams voice came over coms. "We're almost at the drives now. If there's no one to save or take, prepare to evac in five." Natasha said as she and Wanda stopped before a room storing this base's secrets.

Wanda lit up the room with her magic before deeming it safe for Natasha to flick the switch on. "Is that new?" She asked when Wanda lowered her hands. "Steve, Vision, and I have been trying to come up with inventive ways to use my powers."

Natasha nodded as she put the thumb drive into the computer in the corner of the room.

"That's right," Natasha said. "I can see you lifting him from my window." That surprised Wanda. She had no idea Natasha had been watching them after team training ended. "You're doing good." Natasha offered a genuine smile to the Sokovian, who tried her best to hide the red on her cheeks.

Natasha noticed but didn't comment on it.

Instead, she turned to look at the files loading up on the monitor. Folders and folders full of information on this Hydra bases dealings.

What test they ran. Who they tested it on. What bodies were traded for and to whom.

It was all horrible.

Natasha's eyes watched each document and picture flick by her. The progress bar at the bottom of the screen was getting closer and closer to 100% when a picture of a young blonde girl flew by.

Natasha leaned forward.

No.. It couldn't be..

Wanda saw how Natasha's whole body language changed. She saw how her green eyes changed from focused to scared. Before Wanda could comment on it. A loud bang was heard from outside the door down the hall.

Instantly, Natasha rose to her feet, gun drawn. She looked over at Wanda with raised hands. Ready to fight. Natasha nodded to Wanda and then back to the computer and whispered. "Stay here. Make sure it gets to 100% and then take it with you to the quinjet. I'll be there."

Wanda felt like she should stop Natasha. Or that they should go together, but the words never left her mouth as Natasha rounded the doorframe, disappearing from sight.

As Wanda waited, Natasha quietly stalked her way to where the noise had came from. Her breathing was slow and calculated as she kept her gun in front of her. She listened for any voices or footsteps that might give away whoever was around. But no noise was made.

Natasha turned around and was about to head back when a woman wearing a grey Hydra outfit emerged from the shadows with a gun in their hand—firing two rounds at Natasha before they took off running.

Natasha used her quick reflexes to get up onto her feet and immediately started chasing after the person who just shot at her. "I got one running west," Natasha yelled in the coms. "Heading your way, Wanda."

Wanda's head shot up at learning that piece of information, and stood up from the computer to rush out the doorway. Without thinking about Wanda used her magic to stop the Hydra agent. Immobilizing their body, sending them crashing to the floor. The gun sliding away from their hand.

Natasha stopped next to the fallen body and bent down to turn the woman's body over. Natasha saw how the woman's eyes were red. Wanda had her under. "She's scared," Wanda spoke up for the woman.

That's why she ran. Natasha thought as she looked over the woman's blonde hair and at the features on that dawned her face.

Memories came to the front of her mind as her fingers itched to touch the side of her ribs again.

Natasha shook them away and swallowed before standing back up with a groan. The sharp pain rushed through her body as the adrenaline started coming down. Natasha winced and placed her hand on her side where the pain was coming from.

"You're bleeding."

Natasha looked into Wanda's concerned green eyes and didn't move as Wanda stepped closer to her. Walking right over the now incapacitated Hydra goon. Natasha wanted to take a step back away from Wanda but froze when Wanda's soft hands placed themselves on Natasha's body. Her hands gripped Natasha's hips as she bent down to take a closer look at the wound.

"It looks like the bullet just grazed you. Did you not feel it?" Wanda looked up at Natasha, who just shrugged. "I didn't even realize."

Wanda accepted the answer because she could start to see that pushing Natasha would push her away. So, instead, Wanda nodded to herself and raised her hand to Natasha's wound.

"I've been working on something.. Do you trust me?" Wanda asked the one person whom most people could never see Natasha trusting. "Yes," Natasha said without hesitation. Wanda hid a blush at that before continuing.

She raised her hand higher and brought it closer to Natasha's bleeding side. "It won't hurt."

Natasha watched as red wisps extended themselves from Wanda's hand and landed on the marking of the bullet. Before her eyes, Natasha watched as Wanda started patching the wound as if she were stitching her body. "Oh my.. Wanda..." Natasha couldn't believe it, and yet her wound was now sown shut with a red glow around it.

Wanda looked at what she did and smiled. She was proud of herself. So when she looked up, and saw Natasha smiling back down. Wanda smiled brighter. "That's amazing," Natasha said as Wanda stood up. Her hands were still on the Widow's body. "Thank you!" Natasha looked at Wanda with newfound respect and admiration.

And before she knew it, Natasha's eyes traveled from Wanda's green eyes to her pink lips. She started scanning every inch of the Sokovain's face in a new way.

Wanda wasn't sure if what she was seeing was actually happening, so it was best not to comment on it. However, she did notice that slight fall from Natasha's lips when Wanda removed her hands from her.

"When we get back, you'll have to get it checked out. My magic won't hold it forever... At least not that I know of." Wanda chuckled at that last part, making Natasha crack a laugh for the first time in a long time.

The nice eye-darting moment between the two had to come to an end when the prisoner groaned from the floor. They were still unconscious, thanks to Wanda. But needing to be moved.

"I'll check the hard drive if you want to..." Natasha didn't need to say anymore as Wanda effortlessly lifted the prisoner with her powers. Natasha smiled at the easy use of her powers and subconsciously rubbed the side of her ribs above the area where she had been shot once again—an action Wanda had picked up on.

Perhaps it was a nervous habit of Natasha's?

Maybe a tic?

Wanda didn't know, but when she saw Natasha do it again, she sat back down in the chair in front of the monitor. The screen sitting on an image of an experiment being ran on a young kid.

The progress bar below sitting at 100%.

Wanda watched as Natasha's body tensed, followed by her thoughts becoming louder and louder.

_

The flight went by quicker than Wanda thought it would.

She wanted to sit and talk with Natasha but couldn't when Natasha landed herself in the pilot seat. Wanda was sure she wouldn't have been if the Widow told the team about her getting shot, but Natasha didn't.

Instead, when Wanda and Natasha arrived with the unconscious Hydra goon, Steve and Sam had no idea that Natasha was in a fight. Something about the coms failing right after the download started. Steve asked Natasha if she was fine, and Wanda watched her teammate lie and put on a brave face.

So Natasha flew the team back.

When they landed, Sam went to start a report on the mission while Wanda went with Steve to take the prisoner to holding. Natasha went to the medical unit to get her wound looked over.

At least, that's what Wanda thought.

To no surprise but Wandas, Natasha headed straight to her room. She locked the door and went to her bathroom. She opened a cabinet and pulled out her own med kit. She rested it on the counter as her nerves began to calm down. The pain worked its way through her soft and battered body as her suit was slowly peeled off, hitting the floor.

There, Natasha stood in her private bathroom, scanning over her semi-naked body. What's been done to it by others. What's been done is by her own hands. Scars and wounds healed but still leave a mark.

She brings her fingers up over her newest wound and lets the bit of undried blood drip onto her middle finger before she rubs it into her skin.

The red staining her.

Natasha brings her face up from her fingers to look back at the mirror. Natasha realizes just how close the bullet was. Had it been appropriately aimed and higher, it would've gone right through the middle of Natasha's first and only tattoo.

On the side of Natasha's ribs were two incredibly detailed fireflies. One was slightly bigger than the other.

"Look, forest stars!"

"Yeah! You know what? Those are actually part of the Lampyridae family. And the glow that you see, that comes from a chemical reaction called... bioluminescence... Come on time for dinner!"

"I want Mac and Cheese."

"Natasha..?"

Natasha, startled, jumped back and away from the shut bathroom door. Covering herself before, she immediately closed her eyes and got upset at her actions once she realized it was Wanda on the other side.

Had she not heard the witch enter her room?

"I was calling your name over and over, but you didn't hear me." The witch answered. "I came to check on you. I went to the medical wing and... and you never made it. So I knocked on your door before letting... myself.. in..." Wanda tried to laugh to cover the light criminal work she had done. Even then, she opened and closed her mouth, but before Natasha could do anything, Wanda asked: "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Natasha stood with her bodysuit held in her right hand. A part of her was yelling at her to put it on and send Wanda away. Fix yourself up alone and get back to training. But there was the other half. The one who was exhausted and hurt. The one who needed help.

That voice won out.

"Wa-Wanda..." Natasha's voice was cracked before she cleared it. "Yes?" Wanda answered with a voice of surprise and concern. But then Natasha didn't speak. Instead, there was a click of the door as Natasha removed her hand from the lock. "Come in.." She quietly called out to the Sokovian, who now wore a set of grey sweats, gingerly placed her hand on the knob before turning it slowly, opening the door.

"Natasha..." Wanda hitched her breath as her eyes became focused on the woman standing before her. Only wearing a black sports bra and black shorts. Riddled with scars and bruising. A bullet wound below a black and white marking that Natashas was hiding with her hand.

Wanda took her gaze off Natasha's body and found her eyes. Taking a step forward, Natasha didn't look away from the younger woman. She didn't move. She kept her grip on her suit and waited. "Natasha?" Wanda spoke.

"Hmm?"

Wanda looked away from the Widow and picked up the Avengers-level first-aid kit. "Take a seat.." She gestured over to the edge of the counter. Natasha looked at the spot before nodding.

Cautious, she dropped the suit from her grip but kept her hand covering the tattoo.

Wanda caught onto it and wasn't sure what Natasha could possibly be hiding; after all, SHEILDS secrets had been public knowledge for the last year and a half. But Wanda wasn't going to bug her about. Right now, she just wanted to care for her teammate and friend.

So, as Wanda got closer to Natasha, Natasha sat straight up and lifted her arm up to give Wanda enough space to work. Wanda sent the older woman a flat smile and bent down slightly before starting to clean the grazed area of the bullet.

Natasha did her best not to wince or show much emotion as Wanda cleaned her up and tossed the bloodied pieces of tissues to the side. Wanda knew Natasha wouldn't, but still, she was in such close proximity to THE BLACK WIDOW, and yet she could tell something was wrong. "Natasha?" Wanda finally said when she went to stitch her up without using her powers.

"Yes?" Natasha brought her eyes to Wanda as her loud thoughts of a young blonde child slowed. "Are you okay?" Wanda asked the question that had been begging to be asked.

Natasha wasn't sure what it was, but she easily could've lied to Wanda. She could've nodded, put on a brave face, and shut down any remaining questions, but when the green eyes of the Sokovian looked up at her, she broke. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight as tears threatened to spill.

Wanda quickly put down the medicinal supplies in her hand and placed her hands on the shoulders of the redhead before they moved down to Natasha's side. Her hand sitting inches above the still-covered tattoo. "Tas-Natasha?"

Natasha shook her head and used her one free hand to wipe at her face. A tear slipped past her mouth as she opened to speak. "I'm tired." She spoke through her rough throat. Wanda nodded. She knew. "So tired."

Wanda rubbed her hands up and down Natasha's side. It seemed like it was still a safe thing to do, considering Natasha hadn't stopped her, and they were both enjoying the touch of each other on their skin.

Wanda was going to let the silence linger. She didn't know what to say to help Natasha that the Widow didn't know, and she was focusing really hard not to read her thoughts. But luckily for Wanda, Natasha very quietly looked up and said: "I miss her."

Wanda saw the soft sadness in the eyes of her friend and felt hurt. She didn't like seeing Natasha like this. It didn't feel right, and someone this pretty should never be sad.

"Who?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious.

"Yelena. My sister."

Natasha saw the confused look on the witches face, but instead of elaborating, Natasha leaned closer to Wanda and lifted her hand off of her tattoo. "Here." She placed her hands on top of Wanda. Moving one just in front of her forehead and the other hand, she moved down the side of her body.

The feeling of their fingers resting on top of one another sent a warmth wave throughout each woman as Natasha finally placed Wanda's hand on the tattoo.

"I got this a year after my deflection to SHIELD."

Wanda rubbed her thumb over the larger firefly before tracing her fingers over the delicate linework. The action making Natasha smile. "Do you know where she is?" Wanda gingerly asked when she took her eyes off the piece of art.

"No."

"Do you wish you did?"

Natasha didn't waste another thought on a lie. She answered truthfully while looking into Wanda's eyes.

"Yes."

Wanda's eyes stayed on Natashas before dropping to her lips and back up. "Can.. I..?" Wanda asked, awaiting consent before earning a nod. With that, Wanda lowered her hand and began looking into Natasba's mind. Looking at what Natasha wanted her to see.

A young blonde child and a girl with dyed blue hair. The two are playing in a backyard near a swing set. The younger girl is laughing and having fun before she falls over.

"Yelena," Natasha repeated her name. "My sister." Wanda smiles at the memory and then raises her hand up and leaves Natasha's mind. "Before she was taken. She didn't know..." When she opens her eyes, Natasha is looking at her. "Thank you for showing me that." Wanda once again looks down at Natasha's watery smile—her lips.

Natasha nods and notices the look on Wanda's face. "Wanda.." Natasha starts as her hands move to Wanda's waist, tugging her closer to her sitting on the bathroom counter.

"We shouldn't..." Wanda already knows what the older woman is thinking, but Natasha wants this. She needs this. It's been a while since she's felt the care from someone else. The touch of another. She also has shared something with Wanda that no one else knows.

So, as she pulls Wanda closer, Wanda knows that they shouldn't, but she can't say no. The words fail to get past her throat. She wants to feel the lips of the other on her... So she leans into Natasha, and the moment between them is soft. Slow and careful. But the sparks fly.

Something happens.

Natasha's hand moves around to Wanda's lower back, pulling her closer, causing Wanda to fall more into her without a fight as their lips collide again and again.

A whimper makes Natasha smile as she bites and pulls the witches bottom lip between her teeth. "You sound so good for me," Natasha whispers, earning another moan. "Natasha..." Wanda tries to speak again but fails when Natasha's right hand begins pulling at Wanda's grey sweatpants. "Shhh.. It's okay.. I want this.." Natasha reassures Wanda to only earn a shake of the head. The younger woman is doing her best to tell Natasha that she's...

"Tasha.." Wanda moans when Natasha's hand brushes past her bare pussy. "Come on. Tell me you want this, Wanda..." Wanda gasps and moans when a finger touches her clit. "Tasha, please..." Natasha smirks and kisses the lips of the scarlet woman with passion.

"Please, what baby..." Wanda loves the kisses being planted by Natasha, but she has never done anything past this moment with someone. She's feeling lost, and the feeling of passion is morphing into nervousness. And she doesn't want to do this with Natasha when she knows and can feel the thoughts coming from Natasha.

Natasha is looking for an escape.

Wanda moans again in pleasure. "Please stop." She says, surprising Natasha. Immediately, Natasha pulls her hands out of Wanda's sweatpants, placing them on her sides taking her lips off of the Sokovian. Looking into her eyes with concern. "What- what's wrong?" Wanda bites her bottom lip before returning them to Natashas, still keeping her confused. "Wanda?" Natasha looks at her friend with soft eyes.

"I've never..." Wanda says, making Natasha feel guilty for pushing her. "Oh Wanda..." Natasha starts, but Wanda stops her again with a kiss, moving their bodies closer together. "Stop. I want to, but..." Wanda bites her lips again. "I don't want to be used." She takes a careful breath before saying: "You and I both know what that's like."

Natasha doesn't realize a tear has fallen from her face until Wanda drags a finger up her cheek. Wiping it away with tenderness. "I'm so-" "Don't." Wanda cups Natasha's chin. "It's okay." Natasha wants to yell at her that it's not, but all she does is collapse as Wanda runs her hand over the tattoo of a distant memory.

Wanda doesn't speak about what almost happened between them. Instead, she leaves Natasha on the bathroom counter as she brings her some clothes to rest in later tonight. She finishes wrapping the wound around Natasha before leading her out to her bed.

Both women are tired but don't let go of one another hand. Wanda smiles when Natasha asks her to stay.

They don't talk about what is new between them. But the two feel closer as Wanda keeps her hand on the tattoo, and with permission, she is allowed to relive the happiest memories from Natasha's childhood. A majority of them involving Yelena. Natasha thanked her as she laid in the Sokovian's arms.

In return, Wanda made her remember that she's not alone.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[inkblot22]

What's Worse?

I finally finished this. This unpostable thing. It's done and even if it's bad, I do not care. In the end, it ended up being 4k words and I'm okay with this. Header by @/cafekitsune

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep this one very neutral despite the many references to body parts, so anyone who can handle it is free to read! Keep in mind that pronouns such as you and they are used to refer to the reader. The reader is human and does have hair.

TW for coercion, noncon, dubcon, allusions to a physically and emotionally abusive dynamic, captivity, everyone is at least a little bit untrustworthy in this, mentions of the smell of blood, beastman-specific oddities and anatomy, violent and morbid similes. Just in case, I'd like to say that this is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. A lot of the stuff is more so implied than explicitly stated, but it's still there.

The day he moved up a grade and began his “internship” is the same day he took you with him. Sure, Grim came along, but you’re often so busy, or he’s often so busy, either way. So you haven’t seen your familiar in months, and your life is filled with Leona.

You don’t know why he did this, but the first night you were there, he tapped your uvula with his fingers as he orally serviced you so feverishly that you left teeth indent bruises on his knuckles from biting down so hard as you tried not to be loud. He wore them like jewelry, and you know his brother saw them. Everyone at the table knew what happened, because, according to Leona, no matter how often you shower, the way you smell will always give you away.

That was a little over six months ago. As far as captivity goes, it’s rather cushy. You stay within the confines of the Afterglow Savannah’s palace. Sometimes Leona gets a bit aggressive and you take it, but you’re fed, clothed, and possibly pampered. It could be worse. It could be far worse. You could be in the dungeons. 

You actually don’t know if this place has a dungeon, come to think of it. The last time you asked Leona, he asked you if there was an issue with the room you shared with him. When you tried to explain why you asked, he called you a “dumb herbivore” in a very fond tone of voice, then fell asleep. You didn’t try asking again.

It didn’t stop you from wandering. As it turns out, the Afterglow is mostly populated by beastmen… beastpeople? Aren’t all people beasts? Whatever, the point is, you’re basically the only person in the palace with muted senses. You often think back to Rook, wondering how he trained himself to use his senses so well. You tried to practice once, but Leona caught you hiding a  ball and chucked the thing out the window, telling you to find something better to do with your “skills.” You sure used one of your senses, at least.

Unfortunately, these “muted” senses, despite them being completely sensible for your human state of being, have led to some issues. For instance, when someone approaches you, you don’t notice until they’re within your field of awareness. Beyond that, according to Leona, Farena, Cheka, and Farena’s wife, you also tend to just reek of blood.

You have no idea why, and you’ve never noticed this before. You get out of the shower, having scrubbed hard enough to rid yourself of any dirt but not enough to create micro-abrasions on your skin, and Leona still complains about it. You play fight with Cheka, gentle enough that neither of you gets harmed and he’s giggly, and he pauses his mirth and wrinkles his little nose before asking if you got hurt. Zuri, Farena’s wife, regularly would stop you whenever she saw you, her eyes wide as she asked you if everything was okay. The palace staff didn’t say anything, but they’d constantly be re-filling your first-aid kit, one that was “gifted” to you and one that the staff and Kifaji (despite him being human like you, or maybe just not obviously a beastman) insisted that you carry at all times.

But out of all of them, Farena was the worst. If you were in Cheka’s nursery, even just seconds after the kid fell asleep, Farena would pop out of nowhere. If you lingered a bit too long in the kitchen or hallways, anywhere too far from Leona’s wing, he’d approach with a smile, his arms spread wide. If you came to the dining hall without Leona’ his glowing brown eyes would find you, the intensity akin to a sudden knife wound. His persistence in being around you was all blanketed by his uncomfortable implications when he spoke to you.

Even so, you happened to somehow get lost. The hallways are sort of color-coded, but you’ve passed this same hallway several times, enough for you to be okay with admitting that you’ve been walking in a circle for the past twenty minutes. And, much like the devil, as soon as you thought that if you were there any longer, a certain lion-man would appear, Farena popped up and scooped you into a hearty hug as greeting, your feet coming off the floor.

“Leona’s partner!” He never calls you by name. It’s always just that. You are Leona’s partner, not your own person, you guess, “I knew I’d find you eventually.”

“Yes. Hello, your highness.” You wheezed as he placed you back on the floor.

“Oh, you’re so prickly, just like my baby brother. You two are a perfect match- he does like a bit of bite.”

You rarely knew how to respond to him, so you often didn’t. You just stared at him, like a total moron, but he continued talking like you aren’t giving him the most anserine of looks- a word he has used to describe you before, basically to your face.

“I’ve heard that you forgot your first aid kit. We don’t need you tripping and scratching yourself on Leona’s dresser again, and not with an inability to heal yourself.” He never gave you time to answer, “Of course, I know you aren’t magic, but those of you without it have made some wonderful inventions to make up for that.”

“Oh. Yeah, I just left for, like, two seconds so I could return something to the kitchen.”

He nodded, thoughtful, still smiling, “Well, did you hit your head? You’ve been walking in a circle, and you didn’t even stop to say hi to me.”

“No. I, uh.” You cast your gaze down the hallway closest to you, then looked back at Farena, “I am a bit lost. I guess someone else is usually with me when I’m wandering around.”

Leona is not the only person in his family with a cunning streak. You are marginally aware of this, and when Farena’s eyes narrowed, you sucked in a breath.

“Hmm. You’re right, Leona’s partner. It is rather strange not to see you by my baby brother’s side.”

It struck you multiple times in the past that the amount of times you bumped into Farena couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. He’s a king, so why was he never ruling or whatever kings did all day? It was incredibly strange, and you made the same subtle discomforted motions like clockwork. He usually pretended not to notice whatsoever.

His grin was always too bright. You did prefer Leona’s smirk, “Very well. It looks like I’ll need to escort you back to Leona’s quarters, won’t I?”

“Uh. I mean, if you’re not busy.”

“You’re such a mousy thing. Come,” He offered you his arm.

You took it, and true to his word, he led you back to Leona’s wing, then straight up to the door. He knocked, and you ducked out of his arm to cautiously open the door. Leona strolled out of the bathroom, hair and skin wet, his eyes not even skimming over you before they flashed to his brother, who strolled in as though he owned the place. Maybe he did. Who owns a palace if not the king?

“Ah, Leona! I found your partner, wandering the halls like a lost lamb.”

As soon as the words process in Leona’s mind, his green eyes are sliding to pin you down. Your limbs feel like lead, and you don’t move or emote, lest he strike. He’s like a snake when he’s like this, which is ironic. Perhaps it’s not ironic, and just comedic. Who knows?

Regardless, Farena keeps talking, “And I missed you at lunch! What a shame. They had your favorite, you know. Meat! And lots of it. Don’t you ever get hungry, being in here all the time?”

If not for everyone talking about the way your skin smells, that comment could have been written off entirely. It didn’t feel great, being indirectly told that you smell like fresh meat, and Leona wasn’t helping much.

“Mmm. No. I don’t like my meat that rare.” Leona grumbles, taking a seat on his bed and waving you over. “Hey, c’mere and braid my hair.”

What was worse? Being told you smell delicious or being told you didn’t smell delicious enough? It was one of those things. You cautiously tied off his braids, capping both of them in beads that Cheka had gifted you. His hair was wet, clinging to his skin as desperately as the water did. You caught yourself watching a drop sliding over Leona’s tattoo and hummed softly. 

Farena was still talking. You didn’t hear the beginning, and you didn’t care about the end, so you completely tuned him out so you could finger detangle the rest of Leona’s wet hair. While you were ignoring Farena, you were pointedly all too aware of Leona’s sounds of pleasure. It took you a while to get used to it. You were a primate, and he was a lion. More lion than ape. He snorted and rumbled, huffed and chuffed, his face twisted in a scowl. 

“Ah, what a shame. I’ll have to speak to you later, Leona. Perhaps you could talk about those plans with Zuri. I’m sure she’d love to listen.” You tuned back in as Farena turned to the door, opening it before remembering himself and waving at you, “Bye bye, Leona’s partner!”

When he was gone, almost as soon as the door was closed, Leona twisted his torso to grab you around the waist and pull you into one of his kisses. You read somewhere that the reason men kiss so… wetly is so they can mark their partner. It makes more sense if they just didn’t want to kiss with dry lips, but you’re no kissing expert. Leona is not an exception to this, you supposed. He always licked his lips before pressing them against yours, slicked with his saliva and often accompanied by a quiet, barely perceptible growl. 

His kisses were dizzying. Possibly because it was difficult to breathe while kissing someone, and possibly because you were usually held in a crushing vice whenever he kissed you. Your poor ribcage had been squeezed many times. 

And just as soon as it started, he dropped you unceremoniously and stood up, walking past your sprawled body on his floor, “We’ve got some big dinner to get to. Get dressed.”

You scrambled to your feet, “Big dinner?”

“Mhm. It’s some official’s birthday. I can’t be bothered to remember who.”

That made enough sense. In the time you’d been here, you’d learned pretty quickly that it wasn’t exactly worth it to go out of your way to be remembered positively by everyone, especially not since you were… with Leona. In all the time you’d been here, you’d never been sure about what the nature of your relationship with him was, either. Asking would get you some kind of snarky or irritated answer, and not asking but thinking about it made it hard to focus on anything else, so you didn’t think about it.

“Oh. You see Grim today?” You asked while getting dressed in your own green and black dashiki, like a couple’s outfit in the matching pattern of Leona’s.

Like he always did, he stared for a moment before making a few small adjustments. It was funny, he couldn’t be bothered to care about his own appearance, and yet, when it came to you…

“Yeah, He’s good. Still working on the mage stuff.”

“Mmm. Okay. Thanks.” You mumbled, lifting your arms so Leona could look you over again, “What?”

“You stink like my brother. If we had time, I’d fix that, but…”

“What does he smell like?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking what I smell like?” He snapped, and you flinched. Sometimes his irritation came with physical indications, but heavier than the physical indications was the energy around him, “Forget it. Stay close to me tonight.”

You usually did. You hated parties here, but more than the parties themselves, you hated the strangers who came up to you and just said whatever. Last time, someone approached you and asked how big Leona’s wallet was for you to stick around. You’re learning to like nobility less, not that you particularly liked them before..

You’re tucked against Leona’s back for the entirety of the evening. He’s like a ward. People see him and walk the opposite direction unless they’re drunk or stupid, and those types are in short supply at the beginning of the night. Unfortunately, by the middle of the night, amongst sips of his drinks and nibbles of various finger foods, you felt exhausted and Leona was straight up pissed.

You wondered why for a bit too long. You barely even realized when you ended up back in his room, outside on his balcony. He was stewing, pouting like a toddler. You unstuck yourself from his side and sat in one of the chairs.

“Mmm.” He grumbled. He often did this, putting a noise to his emotion, but no words to explain himself. You’d wised up and figured out early on that it was best not to approach him for this type of thing, “Hey, runt.”

Uh oh. He tended to use that nickname before he did something foul to you. You squirmed in your chair and flinched as he turned around and yanked his shirt over his head. His pants went next. Leona didn’t bother with underwear.

“C’mere. What are you hidin’ in the corner for?” He mumbles, “We’ve got time now.”

Your uh oh gets multiplied. It’s not that you aren’t attracted to Leona, or that you’re not in the mood. It’s not that you’re terrified of him, not that you’re confused by his awkward libido. It’s that you honestly don’t know what he sees in you, sprinkled with a bit of relationship insecurity. You’re here because of him, you and Grim have a home because of him, but what’s going to happen when he gets bored with you? 

He looks over his shoulder at you sharply, “What the hell are you doin’? I said c’mere.”

You swallowed and took a few steps forward, stripping as you walked. The night air makes your skin tingle with goosebumps, your nipples hardening and a shiver rattling through you. It’s a very strong possibility that these feelings have beset you based only on the fact that someone could look up from Zuri’s garden and see you and Leona, both naked on his balcony.

 When you’re standing in front of him, he just stares, one of his hands ever so gently stroking himself. You think it’s funny, the phrase “playing with yourself,” because that is what it is. His fingers softly paw at his heavy balls, gliding up the base of his shaft to tweak the head of his cock under his foreskin. He doesn’t break his gaze on you to look at himself. The hand that is not busy with himself reaches out to grab your waist, just above the start of your hip, and yank you closer.

He’s not gentle. Not really. You know he has the capacity to be gentle, but he doesn’t really seem to care. In the past, when you’ve pleaded with him to be gentle, he’s told you that he would treat you like glass if he thought you were made of it, but since he’s seen you suffer worse (what is worse?) he doesn’t see the point in bothering. That doesn’t change the fact that his touch often hurts. Now is not an exception, and you make your displeasure clear with a soft noise of discomfort.

“Shhh. You wanna tell me what happened earlier?” Leona mumbles, pressing his face against the skin on your stomach, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh.

You absolutely hate it when he smells you like this, but that’s not important right now, “Wh-what?”

“With Farena. You looked freaked out.” Leona ever so lightly kisses the pit of your bellybutton, “He do anything to you?”

You’re not a fan of Leona acting like this. While it seems like he cares, you know from past experience that he’s typically, if not always, on the brink of a jealous meltdown. His jealous meltdowns almost always end with you sitting alone in the bathroom, tending to your own wounds as he sleeps like a kid who just threw a tantrum. So you decide to give a simple answer before distracting him, at least for a moment.

You scratch the nape of his neck, since he doesn’t like you touching his ears, “He was just his usual off-putting self. Nothing else.”

Leona grunts and looks up at you, so you take your chance. You lean down, sitting on your knees, and press a mock-reverent kiss to Leona’s thigh. He’s surprisingly hairless, for someone who is more lion than ape. You suppose the same could be said for yourself, as someone who is more ape than lion. 

Leona’s unimpressed face slants into a smirk, and his hand that was previously fondling his genitals slides to cup your cheek, fingertips rubbing behind your ear.

Now that it’s right in front of your face, you wish that you hadn’t decided that this was the best option for distraction. You think maybe anything would be better than catching those barbs in the back of your throat. The little softly-curved nubs circling the base of the head of Leona’s cock flare out a bit, resembling one of those Elizabethan ruffs, tattered by the passage of time and reduced to the skeleton. They aren’t sharp, not truly, but they’re uncomfortable, especially when you forget that the more worked up Leona gets, the further they poke out and the harsher they feel. It’s similar to someone’s very carefully blunted fingernail and fingertip rubbing against your cheeks.

You try to suck up your carefully hidden disgust and press a soft kiss to the very tip of Leona’s dick, wetting your lips with his salty pre. Surprisingly, he doesn’t taste bad. You would think that his skin, his cum, would taste bitter and harsh, but it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever tasted. Perhaps that’s a silver lining in this wicked situation.

Regardless, a quiet grumble from him makes you snap back into the reality of where you are, and you figure you may as well get to work. You slide your lips down to his base, wincing as the spongy head of his member punches the back of your throat and his hand slides back to grip your nape.

“You trying to bore me to death, runt? You know I hate this teasing shit.”

That’s right. He absolutely loathes it. You bob your head a little more expeditiously, trying to ignore the slick mixture of drool and pre that is escaping from the corners of your lips and the ever-increasing strength of Leona’s thrusts against your face.

Despite your senses being the most dull in the palace, you can sort of hear the festivities downstairs, and Leona chuckles, standing with your head still cradled in his hand so he can actually start thrusting. It always begins with you trying to set a gentle pace and it always quickly dissolves into chaos. He’s lazy, but if he’s anything more than lazy, it’s a shameless pleasure chaser. You would think that you would have learned by now.

“You can’t hear them. They’re not at all concerned with me, they’re wondering where you went off to. But everyone knows that you belong to me, so they should know that you’re with me.” Leona mumbles. 

You gag, his dickhead wetly popping against the back of your throat as the fluids in your mouth froth with the speed of his motions, gooey trails roping down to cling to your cheeks and collarbones, connecting to Leona’s shifting hips. At least he doesn’t stink today.

A bug lands on your shoulder and flits away as you choke on Leona as he shoves his cock down your throat. Maybe you should feel a bit more grateful that this is happening partially outside, and that way you can have constant reminders that you’re still alive and not in some form of purgatory, serving time for your very minor moments of humanity when you were alive. 

Leona snarls, “You’re just so cute, with those lips wrapped around me. I wonder if my brother would keep flirting with you if he knew that you were like this in private.”

The implications of that statement are absolutely lost on you. You’re aware that Leona knows how you feel about your current life to a degree, but he doesn’t give a damn about your emotions. Whatever he’s talking about is absolutely just him babbling out some sex-addled nonsense. As the barbs scrape against your uvula, you gag and try to push his hips away so you can catch your breath for a second.

He doesn’t let up. Sweat is sliding over his skin, beading into crystal pearls and sliding down to flavor the skin in your mouth with their salt. If you don’t puke from his roughness, you’re going to puke from ingesting so much sodium. His smirk grows and his fingers massage the base of your head as if he isn’t pounding into your throat.

“Aw… too much? Maybe if you were a bit more active, I’d be done a bit sooner.” He coos.

You don’t fully hate Leona. He has given you somewhere to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear, for both you and Grim, but whenever he gets like this, taunting you even though he’s using you like a cheap sleeve, you feel an indescribable, hopeless anger. Regardless, you bring one of your hands up to the copious amounts of drool and pre and sweat that are covering your skin, collecting the goop on your fingers. You cup his ass with your non-gooey hand and spread that cheek, plunging a finger into his asshole and aimlessly crooking your finger.

His hips spasm, his hand fists into your hair and he lets out a low grumble, “Rrr.”

You slowly ease your other gooey finger into his ass and hope that he will cum soon so you can catch your breath. You need a shower, and he’s probably going to just go to bed after this. You’re more tired than he is, and you’re actually beginning to think that you both might be a bit tipsy. You need this to end, and you need it to end soon.

Your prayers are answered. You feel his cock bob in the back of your throat, the glans tapping that soft spot that makes you feel it in the back of your nose, and he yanks your head back, your lips releasing him with a somewhat loud pop.

His cum is hotter than it has any right being. You suppose since he runs hot, it’s not that shocking, but you’re also aware that the whole reason that the balls are not an internal thing is because the human body is way too hot for sperm to live for long periods of time inside of the body. This information is irrelevant, however, because Leona has just made the mess on your skin that much worse. You sigh as he lets go of you, flopping back into his chair and gesturing to his cock again.

“Can you clean me up before you go running off?”

You’d love to tell him no, to ask him to shove it, but you grunt your acquiescence and tongue-clean his messy skin, as if you aren’t covered in more slime than he is. Once done, you stand up and gather your clothes, placing them in the laundry bin in the bathroom and getting in the shower.

You scrub a little harder than usual, but not hard enough to break skin, not even enough to create micro-abrasions. Once out, you throw on one of Leona’s gaudy yellow tees and take a seat on the bed. He’s already curled up under the covers, but the soft tapping of his tail lets you know that he isn’t sleeping. You slide under the covers yourself and Leona rolls over, pulling your back into his chest.

“Hey.” He mumbles into your hair, “You stink like a fresh kill.”

What’s worse? Smelling like blood in a den of predators or being in the den of predators to begin with?

[ticklinglady]

The Guild's actions during the story are so insane, when you think about them properly, you know? When I first read the arc with them, this moment hasn't really occurred to me, as I was too busy going nuts over finally seeing the names of the familiar writers, but now when I think of that... I am not sure, I comprehend how they managed to achieve such a ferocious reputation. I have already made a little post about how extremely dysfunctional the DOA members are, but at least those guys have a plan, which actually makes sense more or less, even despite the gang using cheatcodes/the Book. The same cannot be said of the Guild however archghhjkn. Like, what the hell were these guys even doing??? XD

So here are just some moments, which weirded me out the most

At first I'd like to address the entire story with everyone's favorite tsundere, Lucy Maud Montgomery. Her introduction leaves quuuuite an impression in the best way and nothing makes me happier than the fact, that she gets a chance to find happiness in the following chapters and actually becomes a reoccurring character! HOWEVER, her entire involvement with the Guild is super odd... I still can't wrap my head around her getting fired. She is a girl with a hella powerful ability, who got taken to the Guild from a terrible, terrible orphanage in order to fight for them in the war for the Book, so not only is she very strong, but she's also immensely dependant on the organisation and wouldn't do anything outside of its interests. Yet Lucy is also put under extreme pressure. As she herself puts it, the Guild doesn't tolerate failures and will kick her out the moment she screws something up.

Later we see that this is exactly what happens, when she messes up her first mission. Fitzgerald himself confirms that, since she failed and revealed her ability to the enemies, she's no longer useful, so now a powerful esper, like Lucy works for free as a... laundress?

EXCUSE ME??? WHEN HAVE THE GUILD MEMBERS EVER DONE ANYTHING, BUT FAIL AND REVEAL THEIR ABILITIES?

Let's be real, these dudes were successful like only once or twice...

This fact not only makes Fitzgerald look like an idiot for wasting such a talented and useful worker, because of one mistake, but also as one hell of a hypocrite, cause he is more than fine with everyone else fucking up. And in case of Lovecraft and Steinbeck: fucking up twice. To add to the oddity, we later learn, that Louisa genuinely cares for Lucy and despite her social anxiety actually stood up for her during the entire story, but even that wasn't enough to change Fitzgerald's mind on the issue, though Louisa is one of the few people, whose opinion he respects. Honestly, this is such a waste of a truly useful subordinate. And speaking of which....

The Guild has never even tried to implement Edgar Allan Poe during the war...

This man is actually rather op when you think of it. He can capture and neutralise literally any ability user in Yokohama (besides Dazai, Mori and Ranpo ofc) just by throwing a book at them. Seriously, as we see with Chuuya, they don't even have to read it, they just need to see the pages. Plus the book can be actually sent via email!!! So why has there been an absolute zero amount of strategies with the use of this ability??? They could actually try to catch Atsushi by sending him such email containing any of Poe's mystery stories and then safely carry him back to their base. And it doesn't have to be just Atsushi, it could be literally any of their enemies. Non-combatant, like Ranpo could use this pretty damn well to his advantage and it doesn't take a genius to understand the potential of the "Black Cat in Rue Morgue". But nooooo, it seems like everyone has just forgotten of Poe!!! (Tho to be honest, I can actually see this situation in a funny extra awfgbfggfjj. Not the main story however) The agency would never even learn of his existence, if he didn't personally decide to try to fuck Ranpo's life up. Like, what does Poe even do in the Guild? He's the master architect and, according to him, the third ranking man in the organization, but we never see him be of any use, so Idk. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Lucy at least got to do something, unlike this poor man.

Then there's the entire drama with the Guild's decision to destroy Yokohama. Where do I even begin...

First of all, Fitzgerald has no way of knowing that Atsushi is going to come to Moby-Dick to fight him. Poor guy is the Guild's primary goal and has already gotten himself captured once, so it would have been safe to assume that the ADA decided to hide him somewhere and not send him on any dangerous missions for the time being. That basically means Fitzgerald could have burned down not just Yokohama, but also the only person, who could actually help him find his precious Book.

But if we're to ignore this, let's also go with Wikipedia then~

"Yokohama is the second-largest city in Japan by population and the most populous municipality of Japan. It is the capital city and the most populous city in Kanagawa Prefecture, with a 2020 population of 3.8 million. It lies on Tokyo Bay, south of Tokyo, in the Kantō region of the main island of Honshu. Yokohama is also the major economic, cultural, and commercial hub of the Greater Tokyo Area along the Keihin Industrial Zone."

..........................

Good luck making up for the destruction of THIS, Fitzgerald 🖕

And if this in itself wasn't bad enough, most people, including me, tend to forget that all Guild members are actually big shots in the American government, which I think is very sad. Because first of all, can you imagine any of the Guild members actually working as politicians?!! The sheer idea makes me hysterical avshbgj. Like, just consider Lovecraft working as a senator or something. This eldritch horror of a man leaves the ocean once in three years at best LMAO. Second of all, I have a feeling, that the destruction of Yokohama at the hands of influential politicians from a foreign country would have resulted in an international conflict or two~ Like as if random deranged rich Americans arriving in Japan, wreaking havoc over there and destroying the second largest city in the country wasn't bad enough, these Americans just HAD to be super influential businessmen and politicians. Louisa, my dear, I understand that it wasn't your intention, but it's as close to a declaration of war as it can get, you know? Fitzgerald may be ready to do anything to resurrect his dead daughter, but I'm not sure, that the execution of himself and the rest of the Guild at the hands of the Hunting Dogs is something he'd like.

(And here's another funny thing that stems from them being politicians 🤭 As @originalartblog wittily pointed out, Fitzgerald wasting all his money fighting sskk has probably resulted in a market crash and recession over in the USA)

I also have some other questions in regards to this entire plan, such as why did they have to waste Moby-Dick just to destroy Yokohama? Yes, it works in the short term, but in the long term they loose a super powerful fortress with the stealth mode and as the practice shows, you better have a safe base, unless you want another lemon freak to blow it all up. I mean, you could just ask Lovecraft to destroy everything for free. Or, if the device is the only way to stop the giant whale from crashing, why didn't Fitzgerald just take it to a far away bunker or something and waited things out there without the need to spend millions of dollars just to survive the explosion? (And it would have been extremely funny, if during the fight with sskk he just threw the device overboard) But I think I have already rambled for long enough already atxhghbgv XD

The Guild is an even bigger mess than the DOA and I think that's glorious 🙌

[snows-2am-thoughts]

PM and ADA deal Theory

Hey guys, friendly reminder that Mori is likely still gonna ask for someone from the ADA to join the PM. It honestly hurts my soul to think that the ADA will lose someone this soon after all the shit in this arc went down but Mori isn’t one to care about that kind of stuff. 

SEASON FIVE SPOILERS

This is about 1.7k words so be warned

I know a lot of people are sold on the theory that it’ll probably be Tanizaki since Asagiri is big on foreshadowing and Tanizaki does have a homicidal side but I don’t think he’d let himself be put in a position to where his sister might be in danger or get a target on her back. He’d probably run away or kill the people in question before that happened. Not to mention since his run in with Akutagawa and the black lizard that he sort of hates most if not all of the mafia members. He was so ready to go to war with the PM to defend the agency and someone like this would be super hard to control, deal with the ADA or not.

Mori isn’t stupid, in fact he’s very calculating and very cunning and who are his biggest obsessions? He’s always so focused on Dazai and Yosano but both of these are off limits in his eyes. Yosano is off limits because of the terms of the deal with Fukuzawa and Dazai is off because Mori wants him to come back on his own. Now we have Kyouka, Atsushi, Kenji, Ranpo  and Kunikida left to choose from. 

Kunikida is off the table I think because he’s a child bombing away from just completely breaking. There is a part of me that believes Mori could pick Kunikida solely to break him and watch Fukuzawa and Dazai suffer but Mori is also the type of boss that doesn’t want to waste powerful allies if he doesn’t need to. I mean, he’s literally letting Tachihara choose his loyalties, he’ll probably still get punished severely but Mori isn’t one to just waste men unless it’s for good reason or worth the risks. Also Kunikida is Fukuzawa’s successor and something tells me that Mori doesn’t wanna deal with the strict moral types. 

Ranpo is definitely off the table. Fukuzawa would go batshit if Mori picked him. He just lost his childhood best friend. Do you think he’s gonna let Mori take his son next? No he will not. Also Ranpo would blatantly refuse to work with him. He’s smart enough to survive but Ranpo is disinterested in most things and Fukuzawa is really the only one who can make him do something. I don’t think Mori would want to deal with that either. 

Now we have Atsushi, Kenji and Kyouka. Mori usually chooses children to take under his wing because they’re easy to manipulate and easy to mold into his ideal subordinates. However Kyouka was already in the mafia once and Kouyou even used up her slight favor with Mori to let her leave the mafia with no consequences. I don’t think he’d want to deal with the hassle of internal conflict since Kouyou would be pissed if he took Kyouka away from the light that she enjoys so much. However much Kouyou wants to deny that she can’t help Kyouka anymore, she’s only human and she’s very much attached to the Kyouka who shares a similar past and ability. 

Kenji’s situation is kind of hard to determine. As stated, Mori does prefer to mold and manipulate children rather than adults but Kenji is kind of an oddity among humans. Not because of his ability but because of his personality. He’s very much a “you fuck around and find out” type of guy is willing to believe the best in people despite what they may do or have done. I don’t see many reasons why Mori wouldn’t choose him other than there are better options than Kenji. Sure Kenji is super powerful with a very useful gift but there are other members that would fit his goals better. 

Now Atsushi, he’s the biggest contender for the mafia recruit in my mind for a few reasons. Now we saw in the series that there were gonna be three main villains (The Guild, the Decay of Angels and the Order of the Clock Tower) and now we have finished out with two of them. This means that we’re possibly getting into the last major arc or two of the main plot of the story and there are still so many unanswered questions about Atsushi. 

Atsushi was deemed the envy of all ability users by Fyodor which was why Shibusawa originally held an interest in him. My question is why Fyodor was interested enough in Atsushi to know of him and what is their connection that Fyodor was even able to know of him. Fyodor is a genius but the orphanage headmaster said that he was a randomly dumped toddler and he lived most of his life in a cage in the orphanage. This in itself is fishy but I’ll get to that in a second. Moreover, Atsushi’s ability seems like it just resists almost all other abilities with the ability to cut through space itself and high regeneration abilities that causes most wounds to go away instantly when he’s in his full tiger form, most other abilities don’t affect him when he’s fully a tiger. 

Who is called the most powerful ability user? Natsume is, and he is able to turn into a cat. Seeing the pattern here? When did the headmaster die? When he was trying to find Atsushi and talk to him again. It’s very suspicious timing and I wholeheartedly believe that he was silenced by someone who didn’t want Atsushi knowing something important about himself. And then we have the seven billion bounty that was put on his head because of his ability. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that Fitzgerald, who wanted to find The Book, wanted the tiger so badly that he was willing to spend that much. 

Asagiri is a beast at foreshadowing and he doesn’t do anything for kicks, all of his moves are deliberate. There is something about Atsushi that we’re missing and I’m willing to bet that Mori, who was going to accept the bounty, wants to know what it is as much as we do. Atsushi’s strange ability, the holes in his past from before the orphanage, Fyodor and Shibusawa’s interest in him, his correlation to Natsume, his probable connections to locating the book and the fact that Dazai was coincidentally there to save him when he came to Yokohama? Yeah, there’s definitely something up with Atsushi and the poor kid doesn’t even realize it. 

So yes, I do think that Mori either a) wants to figure out Atsushi’s situation in relation to everything or b) he knows something and wants to exploit it out of him. My second point is that Mori wants to break Dazai down and build him up as the perfect PM boss. Mori is someone who manipulates and breaks from the sidelines then watches conflict and in the aftermath, glues the pieces of what once was back together in a collage of his own liking. He knows he can’t beat Dazai but he can make him suffer. Who is Dazai the closest to at the agency? Atsushi. 

Dazai always says, “Atsushi and the others” while making sure Atsushi makes it out alive in any situation that he is in. Dazai has a big soft spot for Atsushi, the kid he took in as a mentor and the kid who wholeheartedly believes without any hesitation that he is a good person. He brought his own chair and made a home in Dazai’s heart without his permission. Atsushi knows he was in the PM, knows he’s the reason for a lot of Akutagwa’s issues, knows about some of the atrocities he’s committed but still smiles genuinely at him. Of course he doesn’t know everything but Atsushi is probably Dazai’s biggest apologist (It’s not Akutagawa but that's for a different post). Atsushi is the personification of Oda’s last wish to Dazai and Mori definitely knows that he can hurt Dazai by hurting his beloved mentee.

Mori is also very aware of the new generation of soukoku. If he’s able to wrangle and manage Akutagawa (he’s alive shut up) a little more because Atsushi is his partner then all the more reason to choose him. Atsushi covers all the bases, a mysterious power that could make his organization that much more untouchable, mess with Dazai, mess with the agency and manage his own employees better. It doesn’t help that Atsushi’s mental state isn’t the best. He’s not a kid but he’s traumatized and doesn’t have the same development other 18 year olds do, and that can be just as easily to manipulate as a child. It would be difficult because Atsushi genuinely believes in Dazai with everything he is but every person is able to break and Mori is especially good at that. 

I know that Fukuzawa’s ability is the reason we don’t see any more late night weretiger situations but Atsushi has so much more control now than when he did at the beginning of the series. It’s also very much possible that Mori is looking for a degree of uncontrollable tiger to help him with his goals. It’s also been confirmed that pain can manage his transformations as seen with his collar in BSD BEAST. 

It also doesn’t help that Asagiri tends to go through the trauma route to have his characters develop and experiencing the “darkside” of Yokohama just may be what he thinks Atsushi needs to develop more. 

So yeah, I think Mori may choose Atsushi as the new PM member but don’t quote me on this if I’m wrong, it’ll be embarrassing. They also may just throw this plotline out the window since both sides suffered this past arc, they may find it illogical to go through with the deal when the truce between the PM and ADA is still sensitive but I doubt it. Mori isn’t one to care for those things. 

[writingsofwesteros]

I had a thought (because I'm obsessed with Corlys+Rhaenys having a third, and Helaena needs more love fr)

So it's pretty much agreed that the one recognized innocent green (in the eyes of the blacks) is Helaena, right? Imagine after blood and cheese, she doesn't take Jaehaera and run to Alicent's room, but down to the Dragon pits to Dreamfyre. She's upset and protecting her daughter, but she's still frazzled and not thinking straight. She just wants to feel safe, and nobody does that like Dreamfyre for her, so she mounts her dragon with her daughter and takes flight. Not going anywhere in particular, just away from it all. She's a dreamer, but she's still a mother. And none of them respect her, she's just an ever growing weird oddity to them, not understood. She knew she couldn't save her son, had been seeing it over and over, and been ignored when she tried to tell anyone about her dreams. But he can still try to keep Jaehaera safe, and the babe in her belly (Maelor, who I'm pissed they cut out of the show fr) is not going to have that ending, not like her boy. She just flies and flies, Jaehaera the only thing on her mind as she relives blood and cheese again, getting far from that place. Only... before she knows it, she's gone too far, too close to Dragonstone while lost in her grief and thoughts... and who meets her in the skies, but the same beast she tried to warn them about beneath the boards and was ignored still, Meleys. Only now, when Rhaenys sees that it's Dreamfyre, Helaena clinging to her, blood and tears on on her face and neck, her daughter holding to her chest for dear life... she stops. This is Helaena, she's a dragon dreamer. And the state she's in, there's no threat. But she knows Daemon, and the council, they'll just see a green. A Hightower. and throw her in the cells, or worse. So instead, she doesn't interfere, not yet, just flies alongside her, trying to catch Helaena's eye, but not wanting to add to her fear stricken face. Rhaenys is trying to put the puzzle pieces together, what happened to her sweet dear niece? Where is her son.. why is she here? Covered in blood and tears... her mind turning, making note that Daemon had disappeared and then reappeared without a word, and now this? Gods' what did he do or order done to Viserys' younger girl...

Helaena is truly scared now, she thinks she's going to be captured and gods know what by Rhaenyra, because who can blame her? Her whole life she's been told by her mother and grandfather and brothers that Rhaenyra will kill them all if on the throne, and after what just happened to Jaehaerys, she doesn't know what to do. But Rhaenys isn't doing anything to her... just... being there. Watching her. Trying to catch her eye. It's odd. She's not accustomed to it, people usually think her mad and do everything to avoid her gaze. Helaena's so lost in her thoughts and confusion and... linger of. Some feeling. She can't place. That she doesn't realize Rhaenys and Meleys have silently steered them away from Dragonstone, towards Driftmark. Until Rhaenys calls out her name, saying it's alright, she will be protected by her husband's guards until she sees Rhaenyra, she vows it on her father aemons memory, before dipping down, Meleys moving to land along the shore. Helaena is still afraid... but Rhaenys kept her from Dragonstone. From Daemon... and she doesn't want to go back to King's Landing... and she's so tired.. she takes a risk, and tells Dreamfyre to land... odd? Why does she have a sense of deja vu... she has been dreaming about the sea as of late...hmm...

POOR BABY GIRL!!!!!! The idea of Rhaenys and her dragon being a calming presence as they seek not to spook Helaena who cradles her love. She can hardly think at this moment never mind realise what is even happening.

She hardly remembers anything before waking up in an unknown room with soft covers over her that did not itch